X 

fy. 


REDWOOD. 


REDWOOD: 


A  TALE. 


BY    THE 


AUTHOR  OF   "HOPE  LESLIE,"  ETC, 


'•  Whilst  the  infidel  mocks  at  the  superstitious  of  the  vulgar,  insults  over  their 
creilulous  fears,  their  childish  errors,  their  fantastic  rites,  it  does  not  occur  to  him  to 
observe,  that  the  most  preposterous  device  by  which  the  weakest  devotee  ever  believed 
In-  was  securing  the  happiness  of  a  future  life,  is  more  rational  than  unconcern  about 
it.  Upon  this  subject  nothing  is  so  absurd  as  indifference;  no  folly  so  contemptible 
as  thoughtlessness  or  levity." — PAT.EY. 


AUTHOR'S  REVISED   EDITION. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE   VOLUME. 


NEW-YORK: 

J.  C.  DERBY,  8  PARK  PLACE. 

BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON    AND    COMPANY. 

CINCINNATI:    H.  W.    DERBY. 
1854. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Cun.irros.  in  the  year  1850,  by  ; 

C.  M.  SKIM;K\VICK. 

in  tlio  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New-York. 


HOLMAX,  GRAY  <fc  Co  ,  Printers, 
Corner  of  'White  and  Centre  Sts.,  N.  Y. 


TO 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  i^KYANT,  ESQ., 

IN     TOKEN     OF     FRIENDSHIP     AND      ADMIRATION     OF    HIS     GENIUS, 
THIS     VOLUME     IS     DEDICATED     BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


2051354 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


THE  multiplication  of  books  is  the  cause  of  much  complaint, 
and  it  must  be  conceded  that  the  inconvenience  is  not  trivial 
to  those  who  are,  or  suppose  themselves,  under  an  obligation  to 
pay  some  attention  to  the  current  literature  of  the  day.  When, 
however,  the  matter  is  duly  considered,  it  will  be  found  that 
this  inconvenience,  like  most  others,  is  not  an  unmixed  evil,  but 
productive  of  many  advantages.  It  is  not  a  conclusive  objec- 
tion to  a  new  book,  that  there  are  better  ones  already  in  exist- 
ence that  remain  unread.  The  elements  of  human  nature  and 
human  society  remain  the  same,  but  their  forms  and  combina- 
tions are  changing  at  every  moment,  and  nothing  can  be  more 
different  than  the  appearances  and  effects  produced  by  the 
same  original  principles  of  human  nature  as  exhibited  in  dif- 
ferent countries,  or  at  different  periods  of  time  in  the  same 
country. 

"  Tempera  mutantur,  et  nos  mutamur  in  illis." 

0 

As  times  and  manners  change,  it  must  be  evident  that 
attempts  to  describe  them  must  be  as  constantly  renewed  and 
diversified.  We  are  aware  that  apprehensions  are  entertained 
by  many  intelligent  persons,  that  the  stores  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge  which  have  been  collected  by  our  predecessors,  will 
be  neglected  and  forgotten  through  an  insatiable  appetite  for 


Viii  PREFACE    TO    THE   FIRST   EDITION. 

novelty  :  but  we  think  that  such  apprehensions  are  often  car- 
ried too  far.  The  acquisitions  of  knowledge,  wisdom,  or  even 
wit,  once  made,  are  rarely  lost,  except  by  some  of  those  great 
changes  which,  for  the  time,  subvert  the  foundations  of  society. 
The  original  fountains  may  be  remote  and  unknown  ;  but  the 
river  laves  our  fields,  and  passes  by  to  diffuse  its  treasures 
among  other  regions  ;  and  even  if  its  waters  are  lost  to  our 
sight  by  evaporation,  they  descend  again  in  showers  to  embel- 
lish and  fructify  the  earth  in  a  thousand  forms.  Just  so  it  is 
with  intellectual  treasures.  Very  few  persons  now  read  the 
works  of  Aristotle,  and  not  many  those  of  Bacon  :  but  the 
wisdom  which  they  first  taught,  or  perhaps  collected,  is  now 
spread  far  and  wide  by  numerous  modes  of  diffusion,  and  is 
incorporated  into  the  minds  of  thousands  who  know  nothing 
of  its  origin :  and  we  may  even  remark  that  one  cannot  turn 
over  the  pages  of  a  modern  jest-book,  or  the  files  of  a  village 
newspaper,  without  meeting,  embodied  in  narratives  of  the 
incidents  of  the  day,  the  essence  of  the  same  jokes  which  nearly 
two  thousand  years  ago  Cicero  related  for  the  amusement  of 
his  patrician  friends. 

"We  have  suggested  these  reflections  with  the  double  view 
of  reconciling  the  lovers  of  former  excellence  to  the  invariable 
course  of  things,  which  ever  did,  and  ever  must,  offer  the  pre- 
sent to  our  view  in  great  magnitude  and  strong  relief,  and 
gather  over*  the  past  the  constantly  increasing  clouds  of  ob- 
scurity. There  have  been  in  ages  past,  and  we  trust  there  will 
be  in  future,  individuals  whose  productions,  in  spite  of  all 
changes  of  time  and  language,  will  command  attention  and 
respect ;  but  the  course  of  things,  nevertheless,  has  been,  that 
as  society  has  advanced,  each  generation  has  drawn  more  and 
more  upon  its  own  immediate  resources  for  intellectual  amuse- 
ment and  instruction. 


PREFACE    TO    THE   FIRST    EDITION.  UC 

If  any  doubt  the  propriety  of  these  remarks  as  being  ap- 
plicable to  the  general  course  of  knowledge  and  literature,  they 
may  yet  be  disposed  to  admit  their  justice  so  far  as  they  relate 
to  fictitious  narrative. — It  is  the  peculiar  province  of  that  de- 
partment to  denote  the  passing  character  and  manners  of  the 
present  time  and  place.  There  is  but  one  individual  (whom  it 
would  be  affectation  to  call  unknown]  who  has  had  eminent 
success  in  the  delineations  of  former  periods,  or  what  is  called 
historical  romance.  "  The  folly  of  the  moment"  must  be 
caught  "  as  it  flies." 

The  attractions  of  novelty  are  too  numerous  and  too  evi- 
dent to  require  argument  or  detail  for  their  elucidation.  Every 
one  knows  that  new  books,  and  especially  new  novels,  will  be 
sought  for  and  read,  while  those  of  more  ancient  date  are  dis- 
regarded. Many  read  them  only  because  they  are  new,  and  to 
such  they  do  not  come  in  competition  with  any  other  descrip- 
tion of  reading,  but  are  merely  suffered  to  seize  on  a  vacant 
hour  which  might  otherwise  be  less  profitably  employed. 

We  have  dwelt  at  so  much  length  and  with  so  much  com- 
placency on  the  advantages  and  merits  of  novelty,  because  we 
are  sure  that  our  production  will  have  that  recommendation, 
and  we  are  not  sure  that  it  will  have  any  other — it  certainly 
will  be  the  last  new  novel. 

There  are,  however,  some  other  considerations  which  have 
contributed  to  overcome  our  reluctance  to  appear  before  the 
public.  The  love  and  habit  of  reading  have  become  so  exten- 
sive in  this  country,  and  the  tastes  and  wants  of  readers  so 
various,  that  we  cannot  but  indulge  the  hope  that  there  will  be 
found  some  who  will  derive  amusement,  if  not  instruction,  from 
our  humble  efforts.  We  will,  at  least,  venture  to  claim  the 
negative  merit  often  ascribed  to  simples — that  if  they  can  do 
no  good,  they  will  do  no  harm. 


X  PREFACE   TO    THE   FIRST   EDITION. 

A  few  words  will  be  sufficient  to  indicate  the  design  of  these 
volumes.  We  have  not  composed  a  tale  professedly  or  chiefly 
of  a  religious  nature,  as,  if  left  to  the  bias  of  our  own  inclina- 
tion, we  might  possibly  have  done,  We  do  not  think  that  such 
attempts  have  heretofore  been  eminently  successful ;  or  that 
narrative  sermons  are  of  a  nature  to  be  particularly  interest- 
ing. Still  we  are  conscious  that  the  religious  principle,  with 
all  its  attendant  doubts,  hopes,  fears,  enthusiasm,  and  hypoc- 
risy, is  a  mighty  agent  in  moulding  human  character,  and  it 
may  therefore,  with  propriety,  find  a  place  in  a  work  w  hose  ob- 
ject it  is  to  delineate  that  character.  It  is  a  principle  of  action 
more  permanent  and  more  universal  than  the  affection  which 
unites  the  sexes  ;  and  in  the  fictitious  representations  of  human 
life,  there  can  be  no  reason  why  the  greater  should  be  excluded 
by  the  less.  On  these  impressions  we  have  acted.  We  do 
not  anticipate  splendid  success,  but  we  are  sure  that  we  cannot 
be  deprived  of  the  consolation  of  having  intended  well.  It 
will  be  an  ample  reward  if  we  can  believe  that  we  have  been 
able  by  our  trivial  labors  to  co-operate  in  any  degree  with  the 
efforts  of  the  good  and  great,  "  to  give  ardor  to  virtue:  and 
confidence  to  truth."  Our  anxiety  is  only  for  the  great  truths 
of  our  common  religion,  not  for  any  of  its  subdivisions. 

The  sketch  which  has  been  introduced  of  the  society  of 
Shakers  was  drawn  from  personal  observation.  It  would  have 
been  withheld  if  we  could  have  supposed  that  it  would  wound 
the  feelings  even  of  a  single  individual  of  that  obscure  sect. 
But  against  this  there  is  a  sufficient  security.  The  represen- 
tation is  deemed  just,  and  it  is  hoped  would  not  be  thought 
offensive  ;  and,  besides,  there  is  little  danger  that  this  light 
volume  will  ever  find  its  way  into  a  sanctuary  from  whose 
pale  the  frivolous  amusements  and  profane  literature  of  the 
"world's  people"  are  carefully  excluded. 


PREFACE   TO    THE   FIRST    EDITION.  XI 

Whenever  the  course  of  our  narrative  has  thrown  opportu- 
nities in  our  way,  we  have  attempted  some  sketches  of  the 
character  and  manners  of  the  people  of  this  country.  We 
have  done  this  with  all  faithfulness  of  purpose.  If  we  have 
failed,  we  trust  the  failure  will  be  ascribed,  as  it  ought,  to  de- 
fect of  capacity.  We  live  in  a  country  which  is,  beyond  par- 
allel, free,  happy,  and  abundant.  As  such  we  would  describe 
it — but  as  no  Arcadia,  for  we  have  found  none. 

We  have  indeed  little  sympathy  with  that  narrow-minded 
patriotism  which  claims  honors  that  are  not  yet  merited.  Our 
republicanism  is  founded  on  a  broad  and  general  principle, 
which  is  opposed  to  all  coronations.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
unite  in  hailing  our  country  the  "  Queen  of  the  earth  :"  and 
our  religion  is  too  catholic  to  permit  us  to  claim  for  her  the  ex- 
clusive title  of  "  Child  of  the  skies  :"  but  we  have  a  deep  and 
heart-felt  pride — thank  Heaven  a  just  pride — in  the  increasing 
intelligence,  the  improving  virtue,  and  the  rising-  greatness  of 
our  country.  There  is  something  which  more  excites  the  ima- 
gination and  interests  the  affections  in  expanding  energy  and 
rdpid  improvement,  than  even  in  perfection  itself,  were  that 
attainable  on  this  earth  ;  and  therefore  we  will  ask,  what  coun- 
try there  is,  or  has  been,  whose  progress  towards  greatness  has 
been  in  any  degree  correspondent  with  our  own  ?  Our  change 
is  so  rapid  that  the  future  presses  on  our  vision,  and  we  enjoy 
it  now.  We  heed  not  the  sneer  that  our  countrymen  are  "  pro- 
phetic boasters."  The  future  lives  in  the  present.  What  we 
are,  we  owe  to  our  ancestors,  and  what  our  posterity  will  be, 
they  will  owe  to  us. 

NEW- YORK,  June,  1824. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  NEW  EDITION. 


No  reader  can  be  so  fully  aware  of  the  defects  of  the  following 
pages  as  their  writer — certainly  no  one  half  so  sorry  for  them. 
But  whatever  they  are,  I  am  consoled  by  believing  that  they 
do  not  offend  against  religion  or  sound  morality,  and  that 
they  are  true  to  the  condition  of  society  in  New  England,  and  to 
the  individuality  existing  there  which  I  attempted  to  describe. 
The  book  may  seem  very  dull  to  the  reader  of  the  brilliant 
novels  with  which  the  press  is  teeming.  I  confess  that  1 
cannot  judge  its  merits.  To  me  it  is  endeared  by  the  memory 
of  the  glowing  sympathy  of  the  beloved  brother  who  first 
incited  me  to  literary  labor,  and  whose  approbation  (height- 
ened doubtless  by  affection)  gave  me  as  keen  enjoyment  as  I 
ever  derived  from  it. 

The  description  of  the  religious  community  of  the  Shakers 
may  have  a  permanent  interest  for  those  who  are  curious  in 
investigating  the  history  of  the  human  mind,  as  developed  in 
the  infinite  varieties  of  religious  faith.  Only  an  imperfect 
knowledge  of  this  community  can  be  obtained  from  reading 
their  few  books.  I  had  an  advantage  from  long  residence  in 
their  neighborhood,  from  frequent  opportunities  of  personal 
observation,  from  a  kindly  intimacy  with  some  of  their  mem- 
bers, who,  in  common  with  the  whole  Society  in  Massachusetts 


XIV  PREFACE   TO   THE   NEW    EDITION. 

professed  an  allegiance  to  my  father  in  requital  for  some  civil 
immunities  his  intervention  procured  for  them. 

It  was  my  intention  to  describe  them  truly,  without  exag- 
geration or  false  coloring,  but  I  had  the  mortification  to  find 
that  my  best  friends  among  them,  "  the  Elder  Sisters,"  were 
dissatisfied  with  my  representations.  It  is  not  easy  for  a 
philosophic,  or  even  an  impartial  observer,  to  satisfy  those 
who  tenaciously  and  enthusiastically  hold  to  peculiar  modes 
of  faith  and  worship.  It  is  difficult  to  perceive  the  accuracy 
of  a  landscape  painting  if  we  have  not  stood  at  the  painter's 
point  of  sight. 

The  Shakers  regard  their  Mother  Anne  as  equal  to  Jesus 
Christ.  Both,  in  their  belief,  were  human  beings  in  whom 
the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  dwelt — to  use  their  own  language, 
"  God  was  manifest  in  them,  in  the  female  as  well  as  in  the 
male."  With  these  high  claims  for  their  founder,  they  mis- 
took language  by  which  no  disrespect  was  intended,  for 
irreverence  and  derision ;  and  to  them  'the  modes  of  speech, 
the  usages,  the  assumptions — what,  in  short,  may  be  termed 
the  costume  of  the  community — was  profaned  by  its  exhi- 
bition in  the  person  of  Reuben  Harrington,  a  hypocrite  and 
apostate. 

The  Elders,  as  the  organ  of  the  Hancock  Society,  ad- 
dressed a  letter  to  me,  shortly  after  the  publication  of  "Red- 
wood," expressive  of  indignant  and  wounded  feeling.  This 
document  was  accidentally  destroyed.  I  deeply  regret  its 
loss,  as  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  them  the  justice  to  place 
their  own  contemporaneous  comment  before  the  public.  At 
the  time,  I  made  such  explanations  and  apologies  as  a  sincere 
regard  and  respect  for  them  dictated,  and  they  magnani- 
mously forgave  me. 

On  revising  the  book,  I  see  no  reason  for  any  material 


PREFACE    TO    THE    NEW    EDITION.  XV 

change.  What  then  seemed  to  me  true,  now  appears  so.  The 
sister,  a  woman  of  rare  gifts,  in  the  general  acceptation  of 
the  phrase,  whose  history,  under  the  name  of  Sister  Susan, 
I  have  told  substantially  as  she  related  it  to  me,  has  long 
since  passed  to  the  reward  of  a  self-sacrifice,  a  holy  self-denial 
that  places  her  among  the  Christian  saints,  no  matter  by  what 
earthly  sectarian  designation  named. 

The  followers  of  Mother  Anne  have  now  maintained  their 
Society  in  its  integrity  and  good  order  for  more  than  sixty 
years.  That  it  is  thus  preserved  by  a  sincere  faith,  and 
sound  morals,  cannot  be  questioned,  for  the  tendency  of  false 
pretension  and  bad  morals  is  inevitably  to  dissolution.  There 
can  be  no  mistake  as  to  their  actual  condition,  as  they  exist  in 
the  midst  of  a  suspicious,  keen-sighted,  and  vigilant  popula- 
tion, where  there  is  something  like  an  atmospheric  pressure  on 
every  side,  and  at  a  period,  and  in  a  country  of  constant 
mutations,  where  old  faiths  are  every  year  dissolving,  and  new 
ones  every  year  forming. 


REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  A  5ne  heroine,  truly  ? 

A  Pstagonian  monster  without  a  show  of  breeding." — ANON. 

ON  the  last  day  of  June,  in  the  year  ,  a  small  vessel, 

which  traversed  weekly  the  waters  of  Lake  Champlain,  was 
seen  slowly  entering  one  of  the  most  beautiful  bays  of  that 
most  beautifn.1  lake.  A  travelling  carriage  with  handsome 
equipments,  i  coachman  in  livery  and  an  outrider,  were  drawn 
up  on  the  shore,  awaiting  the  approach  of  the  vessel.  On  the 
deck  stood  a  group  of  travellers  for  whom  the  equipage  was 
destined :  a  beautiful  young  woman,  and  her  attendant  a  fe- 
male slave,  were  surveying  it  with  pleased  and  equal  eager- 
ness, while  the  father  of  the  young  lady  seemed  quite  absorb- 
ed in  the  contemplation  of  a  scene  which  poetry  and  painting 
have  marked  for  their  own.  Not  a  breeze  stirred  the  waters  ; 
their  tnirror  surface  was  quite  unbroken,  save  where  the  little 
vessel  graced  its  dimpled  pathway.  A  cluster  of  islands  lay 
in  beautiful  fraternity  opposite  the  harbor,  covered  with  a  rich 
growth  of  wood,  and  looking  young,  and  fresh,  and  bright,  as 
if  they  had  just  sprung  from  the  element  on  which  they  seem- 


18  REDWOOD. 

ed  to  repose.  The  western  shore  presented  every  variety  of 
form ;  wooded  headlands  jutting  boldly  into  the  lake,  and 
richly  cultivated  grounds  sloping  gently  to  its  margin.  As 
the  traveller's  delighted  eye  explored  still  farther,  it  rested  on 
the  mountains  that  rise  in  four  successive  chains,  one  above  the 
other,  the  last  in  the  far  distance  dimly  defining  and  bounding 
the  horizon.  A  cloud  at  this  moment  veiled  the  face  of  the 
sun,  and  its  rich  beams  streamed  aslant  upon  the  nountain 
tops,  and  poured  showers  of  gold  and  purple  light  into  the 
deep  recesses  of  the  valleys.  Mr.  Redwood,  a  true  admirer  of 
nature's  lovely  forms,  turned  his  unsated  gaze  to  tie  village 
they  were  approaching,  which  was  indicated  by  a  neat  church 
spire  that  peered  over  the  hill,  on  the  height  and  declivities  of 
which  were  planted  several  new  and  neat  habitatbns.  "  Oh 
Caroline,  my  child,"  exclaimed  the  father,  "was  there  ever 
any  thing  more  beautiful !" 

"  Never,  certainly  to  my  eye,"  replied  the  daughter ;  "  but 
I  think  a  carriage  far  less  handsome  than  our»  would  look 
beautiful,  after  those  little  vile  caleches,  and  viler  ponies,  with 
which  we  made  our  entree  into  Montreal.  Oh  papa  !"  contin- 
ued the  young  lady,  tao.intent  on  present  pleasure  and  past 
mortification  to  IK  it  ice  the  shade  of  disappointment  that  had 
chased  away  the  animation  01 -her  fathers  face  ;  "  Oh  papa,  I 
shall  never  forget  our  odious  little  Canadian  driver,  half  In- 
dian, half  French ;  the  rose  tucked  i^ito  his  button-hole  the 
signal  of  one  nation,  and  the  wampum  "belt  of  the  other  and 
then  his  mongrel  dialect,  and  that  '  marse  done,'  with  which 
he  excruciated  his  pony  and  us  at  the  same  moment,  Iocs  it 
not  ring  in  your  ears  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say  that  my  recollections  are  quite  as  lively  as 
yours,  Caroline,"  rejoined  Mr.  Redwood. 

"  You  are  such  an  old  traveller,  papa,  and  besides  you  are 


REDWOOD.  19 

always  thinking ;  but  it  is  quite  a  different  affair  with  me. 
My  heavens  !  you  had  no  imagination  of  my  misery  from  the 
moment  I  entered  the  cale'che  at  la  Chine,  until  I  was  safely 
sheltered  in  my  room  at  the  hotel :  you  sat  rolling  your  eyes 
around  the  green  fields  as  if  they  were  all  drawing-rooms,  and 
every  dew-drop  a  diamond,  while  I  would  gladly  have  drowned 
myself  in  the  St.  Lawrence  !" 

"  Really,  my  dear,"  replied  the  father,  his  tone  bordering 
on  contempt,  "  I  did  not  suspect  you  of  any  such  mad  designs 
on  your  own  sweet  person — you  seemed  very  quiet.'1 

"  Quiet,  yes,  indeed,  quiet  enough  ;  how  could  I  help  my- 
self? but  you  must  own,  papa,  that  it  was  excessively  mortify- 
ing to  make  our  entrance  into  the  city  in  such  style.  Grand- 
mama  says  that  people  of  fortune  should  never  lay  aside  the 
insignia  of  their  rank." 

"  Your  grandmother's  jumble  of  fortune  and  rank  have  a 
strong  savor  of  republican  ignorance.  I  would  advise  you, 
Miss  Redwood,  not  to  adopt  her  wise  axioms  as  rules  for  the 
conduct  of  your  life.  And  you  really  allowed  yourself  to 
suffer  mortification  on  account  of  entering  the  little  city  .of 
Montreal,  in  the  best  mode  the  country  provides  for  travellers 
— a  place  too,  where  not  a  creature  knew  you  from  any  other 
member  of  the  human  family?" 

"  Ah,  there,  sir,  you  are  quite  mistaken  ;  for  Captain  Fen- 
wick  had  written  to  all  the  officers  of  his  corps  our  intention 
of  going  to  Montreal,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  described 
me  so  particularly  to  his  friend  Captain  Fitzgerald,  that  he 
was  sure  he  would  know  me  at  a  single  glance  of  his  eye." 

"  Then  we  are  indebted  to  Captain  Fenwick  for  the  honor 
of  Fitzgerald's  civilities?  I  fancied  our  acquaintance  with 
him  had  been  accidental."  The  penetrating  look  with  which 
Mr.  Redwood  finished  his  sentence,  gave  it  an  interrogative 


20  REDWOOD. 

meaning,  and  his  daughter  feeling  herself  bound  to  reply,  said, 
rather  sullenly,  "  Our  introduction  was  purely  accidental ;  you 
saw  it.  sir,  and  I  thought  at  the  time,  seemed  quite  grateful 
that  the  timely  aid  of  the  Captain's  arm  saved  me  from  being 
run  over." 

"  I  was  and  am  grateful,  my  child,  for  the  aid  which  the 
gallant  Captain's  arm  afforded  you ;  though  it  may  be  that, 
stoic  as  I  am,  I  measured  my  gratitude  rather  by  the  small 
amount  of  danger  than  the  childish  alarm.  The  frightened 
animal,  as  well  as  I  remember,  turned  into  another  street,  in- 
stead of  passing  by  the  way  we  were  going ;  but  this  does  not 
signify.  I  merely  expressed  an  innocent  surprise,  that  there 
should  have  been  grounds  for  your  acquaintance  with  Captain 
Fitzgerald  which  you  never  intimated  to  me." 

"  Lord,  papa,  it  is  so  awkward  to  talk  to  you  about  such 
matters ;  I  am  sure  I  had  no  other  objection  to  telling  you 
that  Fitzgerald  knew  all  about  us  before  he  saw  us." 

:<  All  about  you.  Miss  Redwood  ;  for  I  am  quite  a  cipher  in 
the  eyes  of  such  men  as  "the  Captain,  having  no  other  value 
than  what  results  from  being  your  adjunct.  Fitzgerald  was 
then  apprised  that  you  were  a  belle,  and  will  be  an  heiress." 

"  Probably. «  And  if  I  do  possess  the  advantage  of  those 
distinctions,  I  am  sure  I  ought  to  be  much  indebted  to  Captain 
Fenwick  for  making  them  known,  that  I  may  enjoy  them  abroad 
as  well  as  at  home."  Mr.  Redwood  thought  the  distinctions 
which  procured  for  his  daughter  a  host  of  such  admirers  as  Fitz- 
gerald of  very  doubtful- advantage,  and  would  perhaps  have  said 
so,  but  the  vessel  at  this  moment  touched  the  wharf,  and  the  bus- 
tle of^  disembarking  put  an  end  to  the  conversation.  The  tra- 
vellers having  arranged  themselves  in  the  carriage,  Mr.  Red- 
wood ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  village  tavern." where 
he  said  it  was  his  intention  to  pass  the  night.  A  short  drive 


REDWOOD.  21 

carried  them  to  the  door  of  the  village  inn.  The  landlord  was 
sitting  on  a  bench  before  the  door,  alternately  reading  a  news- 
paper, and  haranguing  half  a  dozen  loiterers  on  the  great  politi- 
cal topics  that  then  agitated  the  country :  his  own  patriotic 
politics  were  sufficiently  indicated  by  the  bearings  of  his  sign- 
board ;  on  one  side  of  which  was  rudely  sketched  the  surren- 
der of  Burgoyne,  and  on  the  other,  an  American  eagle  with  his 
talons  triumphantly  planted  on  a  British  lion.  It  cannot  be 
pretended  that  the  skill  of  the  artist  had  been  adequate  to  re- 
vealing his  design  to  the  observation  of  the  passing  traveller ; 
or  rather  the  design  of  "  Major  Jonathan  Doolittle,"  whose 
name  stood  in  bold  relief  on  one  side,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
spread  wing  of  the  eagle ;  and  on  the  other  under  the  deline- 
ation of  the  victory,  which,  according  to  the  major's  own 
opinion,  he  had  been  a  distinguished  instrument  in  achieving. 
But  any  deficiency  in  the  skill  of  the  artist  was  abundantly 
supplied  by  the  valuable  comment  of  the  major,'whose  memory 
or  imagination  filled  up  the  imperfect  outline  with  every  par- 
ticular of  the  glorious  victory.  The  carriage  drew  up  to  the 
door  of  the  valiant  publican,  and  in  answer  to  Mr.  Redwood's 
inquiry  for  the  landlord,  the  major  replied  without  doffing  his 
hat  or  changing  his  altitude,  "I  am  he,  sir,  in  the  room  of  a 
better."  Mr.  Redwood  then  inquired,  if  he  could  obtain  ac- 
commodation for  the  night.  The  major  replied,  exchanging  with 
his  compatriots  a  knowing  wink,  "  that  he  rather  guessed  not : 
he  did  not  lay  out. to  entertain  people  from  the  old  countries; 
his  women  folks  thought  they  took  too  much  waiting  on." 
Caroline  whispered  an  entreaty  to  her  father  to  order  the 
coachman  to  drive  on  ;  but  Mr.  Redwood,  without  heeding  her, 
said,  ':  You  mistake  us,  friend,  we  are  your  own  country  people, 
just  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  British  provinces,  and  as  we 
have  our  own  servants,  and  shall  not  need  much  waiting  on,  you 


22  REDWOOD. 

will  not  perhaps  object  to  receiving  us."  The  major's  reluc- 
tance somewhat  abated  by  this  information,  and  would  probably 
have  been  quite  overcome,  but  for  his  desire  of  keeping  up  his 
consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  bystanders,  by  showing  off  his 
inherent  dislike  of  an  unquestionable  gentleman.  He  said, 
"  they  were  calculating  to  have  a  training  the  next  day,  and  the 
women'  folks  had  just  put  the  house  to  rights,  and  he  rather 
guessed  they  would  not  choose  to  have  it  disturbed,  but  it  was 
according  as  they  could  agree ;  he  liked  to  accommodate ; 
and  if,"  he  added,  for  the  first  time  rising  and  advancing 
towards  Mr.  Redwood,  "  if  the  gentleman  could  make  it  an 
object  to  them  to  take  so  much  trouble,  he  would  go  in  and 
inquire." 

This  last  interested  stipulation  of  the  major  filled  up  the 
measure  of  Mr.  Redwood's  disgust ;  and  turning  abruptly  from 
him  to  a  good-natured  looking  man,  who,  at  that  moment  riding 
past  them  on  horseback,  had  checked  the  career  of  his  horse 
to  gaze  at  the  travellers,  he  inquired  the  distance  to  the  next 
village.  "  That,"  replied  the  man,  "  is  according  to  which  road 
you  take." 

"  Is  there  any  choice  between  the  roads  ?" 

"  It's  rather  my  belief  there  is ;  any  how,  there  is  many 
opinions  held  about  them.  Squire  Upton  said,  it  was  shortest 
v  by  his  house,  if  you  cut  off  the  bend  by  Deacon  Garson's ; 
5nd  General  Martin  maintained,  it  was  shortest  round  the 
long  quarter,  so  they  got  out  the  surveyor  and  chained  it." 
"  And  which  road,"  "interrupted  Mr.  Redwood,  "  proved  the 
shortest  ?" 

"  Oh  there  was  no  proof  about  it ;  the  road  is  a  bone  of 
contention  yet.  The  surveyor  was  called  off  to  hold  a  Justice's 
court  before  he  had  finished  the  squire's  road,  and — " 

"  Which  do  you  believe  the  shortest  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Red- 


REDWOOD.  23 

wood,  impatiently  cutting  short  the  history  of  the  important 
controversy. 

"  Oli  I,"  replied  the  man,  laughing,  "and  every  body  else 
but  tl:o  squire,  calculates  it  to  be  the  shortest  way  round  the 
long  quarter,  and  the  prospects  are  altogether  preferable  that 
way ;  and  that  is  something  of  an  object,  as  you  seem  to  be  stran- 
gers in  these  parts." 

"  Oh  Lord,"  exclaimed  Caroline, "  it  will  soon  be  too  dark  for 
any  prospect  but  that  of  breaking  all  our  necks  !" 

"  Do  you  think,"  pursued  Mr.  Redwood,  "  that  we  shall  be 
able  to  arrive  before  dark?" 

"  That's  according  as  your  horses  are." 

"  The  horses  are  good  and  fleet." 

"  Well  then,  sir,  it  will  depend  something  on  the  driver ; 
but  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  stop  by  the  way.  It  is 
not  far  from  night ;  there  is  a  pretty  pokerish  cloud  rising  ;  it 
is  a  stretchy  road  to  Eton,  and  it  will  be  something  risky  for 
you  to  try  to  get  there  by  daylight.  But,  sir,  if  you  find 
yourself  crowded  for  time,  and  will  stop  at  my  house,  we  will 
do  our  best  to  make  you  comfortable  for  the  night.  If  you 
will  put  up  with  things  being  in  a  plain  farmer-like  way,  you 
shall  be  kindly  welcome." 

Mr.  Redwood  thanked  the  good  man  heartily  for  the  prof- 
fer of  his  hospitality,  but  declined  it,  saying,  he  doubted  not 
they  should  be  able  to  reach  the  next  village  before  the  storm. 
He  then  directed  his  coachman  to  drive  on  rapidly;  and  ex- 
changing a  farewell  nod  with  his  informant,  who  rode  on  briskly 
before  him,  he  sunk  back  into  his  seat,  and  relapsed  into  silence 
and  abstraction. 

Meanwhile,  Caroline  sat  listening  in  trepidation  to  the 
hoarse,  though  yet  distant  threatenings  of  the  thunder,  and 
watching  with  a  restless  eye  the  fearful  clouds  that  rolled  darkly, 


24  REDWOOD- 

volume  over  volume,  in  their  ascent  to  mid  heaven.  "  For  gra- 
cious sake  put  your  head  out  of  the  coach,  Lilly,"  said  she  to 
her  servant,  "and  look  if  there  is  any  sign  of  the  village." 
Lilly  could  just  discern  the  spire  of  a  church  that  stood  on  a 
distant  hill.  "  On  a  hill  of  course,"  replied  Caroline ;  "  one 
would  think  these  Yankees  had  contrived  their  churches  for 
telegraphs.  I  am  delighted,  at  any  rate,  that  there  is  a  land- 
mark in  sight.  For  Heaven's  sake,  papa,"  she  added,  impetu- 
ously turning  to  her  father,  "  do  rouse  yourself,  and  look  at 
those  clouds." 

"  I  have  been  looking,  my  child,  for  the  last  half  hour, 
watching  the  fading  away  of  the  bright  tints  from  the  edges  of 
that  beautiful  mass  of  clouds,  and  thinking  them  a  fit  emblem 
of  human  life.  Thus  it  is  now — ever  has  been — now  vapor, 
beautiful,  changeful ;  then  comes  storm  and  desolation.  Hark ! 
Caroline,  how  the  wind  sighs  through  the  branches  of  the  trees  . 
as  if  nature  thus  expressed  her  dread  of  the  violence  that  is 
about  to  be  done  to  her  beautiful  face !" 

"  Oh,  what  does  master  mean,"  inquired  Lilly ;  "  does  he 
think  our  faces  will  be  struck  with  the  lightning-?" 

"  Heaven  only  knows  what  your  master  means.  Do,  papa, 
tell  Ralph  to  drive  faster ;  it  is  getting  fearfully  dark." 

Mr.  Redwood  soon  felt  that  his  daughter's  terrors  were  not 
groundless.  The  clouds  had  gathered  a  portentous  blackness, 
strong  gales  of  wind  were  rushing  over  the  lake,  the  rain  al- 
ready poured  in  torrents,  and  there  were  only  such  intervals 
between  the  lightning  as  served  to  contrast  the  vivid  flashes 
with  the  thick  darkness ;  the  thunder  burst  in  loud  explosions 
over  their  heads,  and  its  fearful  peals  were  prolonged  and  rever- 
berated by  the  surrounding  hills.  The  horses  became  restive, 
and  the  coachman  called  to  his  master  for  permission  to  stop 
at  the  next  habitation.  This  was  readily  granted,  and  the 


REDWOOD.  25 


coachman  reined  his  horses  into  a  road  that  led  off  the  highway, 
over  a  little  knoll,  to  a  farm-house  which  stood  on  a  small  emi- 
nence at  the  right,  Kocks,  a  few  feet  in  height,  served  as  an 
embankment  to  the  road  on  the  left.  The  coachman  cracked 
his  whip,  and  the  horses  were  pressing  on  at  their  utmost  speed, 
when  a  thunder-bolt  struck  an  enormous  dead  tree  a  little  in 
advance  of  them,  fired  its  driest  branches,  descended  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  and  tearing  to  splinters  the  parts  it  touched,  laid 
the  roots  bare,  and  passed  off  across  the  road.  The  horsesk 
terrified  by  the  excessive  vividness  of  the  lightning,  or  the 
flaming  tree,  or  perhaps  both,  sprang  to  the  left,  and  before 
the  coachman,  scarcely  less  terrified  than  they,  had  made  an 
effort  to  control  their  movements,  they  had  dashed  over  the 
rocks,  and  carried  the  coach  with  them.  The  horses  sprang 
through  a  clump  of  young  walnuts  that  grew  at  the  base  of  the 
rocks.  Most  happily  the  carriage  was  too  wide  for  the  passage 
and  the  axles  of  the  wheels  were  caught  by  the  trees :  the  sud- 
den check  given  to  the  velocity  of  the  motion  of  the  carriage 
broke  the  traces,  and  tte  released  horses  bounded  away,  leav- 
ing it  and  its  inmate  in  perfect  safety. 

The  moment  Mr.  Redwood  perceived  the  horses  would  in- 
evitably descepd  the  rocks,  he  instinctively  opened  the  c.arriage- 
door  and  sprung  out ;  he  fell  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and 
when  he  attempted  to  rise  to  move  to  his  daughter's  relief,  he 
felt  himself  disabled,  and  sunk  back  insensible.  Fortunately, 
the  coachman,  quite  unharmed,  flew  to  the  aid  of  the  mistress 
and  maid,  who  were  both  shrieking  in  the  carriage.  "  Oh,  stop 
the  horses,  stop  the  horses !"  cried  Caroline. 

"The  horses,  Miss  Caroline,  are  gone."  «  Gone,  but  oh, 
Raphy,  won't  they  come  back  again?" 

Upon  Ralph's  repeated  assurances  that  there  was  not  the 
slightest  danger  of  or  from  such  a  circumstance,  Caroline 


26  REDWOOD. 

alighted,  and  found,  to  her  surprise,  life  and  limb  unscathed. 
When  she  had  quite  satisfactorily  ascertained  this  fact,  she 
turned  to  look  for  her  father,  but  when  she  saw  him  stretch  t-d 
on  the  grass,  the  image  of  death,  she  shrunk  back  appalled. 
At  this  moment  she  heard  some  persons  approaching  to  their 
assistance ;  they  were  from  the  neighboring  farm-houses,  and 
had  been  alarmed  by  her  shrieks,  which  they  had  heard  even 
amid  the  "  wild  war  of  earth  and  heaven."  "  Make  the  best 
•  of  your  way  to  the  house,"  said  one  of  the  men  kindly,  "  we 
will  bring  the  gentleman  in  our  arms."  Caroline  followed  the 
direction,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  several  females,  who 
clustered  about  her  with  expressions  of  pity,  and  offers  of 
assistance.  She  moved  past  them  all,  and  throwing  herself 
into  a  chair,  vented  her  feelings  in  loud  hysterical  sobbings ; 
while  Lilly  set  up  a  most  doleful  cry  of  "  Oh,  what  will  become 
of  us,  master  is  killed,  and  the  horses  are  gone  !"  The  mis- 
tress of  the  house  with  a  voice  of  authority  commanded  -her  to 
be  still ;  and  at  this  moment  the  men  entered,  bearing  in  Mr. 
Redwood,  pale  as  death,  but  sensible  and  calm.  "  Thank  God 
you  are  not  hurt,  my  child,"  he  said,  on  feeing  Caroline,  "  and 
I  am  better."  The  door  of  a  spare  room  being  now  thrown 
open,  the  bed  uncovered,  the  pillows  shaken  up,  the  mistress  of 
the  house  pointed  to  the  men  to  deposit  their  btrthen  there. 
Caroline  and  her  servant  followed  Mr.  Redwood ;  but  so  much 
were  they  both  terrified  by  his  paleness,  and  the  distortion  of 
his  face  from  the  extreme  pain  he  endured,  that  they  were 
incapable  of  offering  him  any  assistance.  Not  so  the  good 
matron  and  her  young  handmaidens.  It  seemed  to  be  their 
vocation  to  act ;  and  so  efficient  were  they  in  their  prompt 
ministrations  of  camphor  and  cordials,  that  he  was  soon  in  a 
state  fully  to  understand  his  condition  and  wants.  He  said  to 
his  daughter  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  remain 


REDWOOD.  27 

where  he  was  for  the  present,  to  summon  a  physician  immedi- 
ately, to  ascertain  the  injury  he  had  sustained,  and  to  set  his 
arm  if  the  bones  were,  as  he  apprehended,  displaced ;  against 
this  the  daughter  warmly  remonstrated. 

His  host,  having  overheard  a  part  of  the  debate,  which  was 
conducted  in  an  under  tone,  said  he  would  call  Debby.  "Debby," 
he  said,  "  was  as  skilful  as  the  run  of  doctors ;  she  was  a  nat'ral 
bone-setter ;  at  any  rate,  if  the  gentleman  was  not  willing  to 
trust  himself  in  her  hands,  she  could  tell  if  there  were  any 
broken  bones."    Debby  was  summoned,  and  soon  made  her  appear- 
ance, muttering  something  about  the  boys,  boy-fashion,  having 
left  out  the  old  mare,  and  she  guessed  she  felt  as  much  pain  with 
her  broken  leg,  as  your  quality.     She,  however,  seemed  a  little 
softened  at  the  sight  of  Mr.  Kedwood,  who  was  evidently  suf- 
fering acute  pain,  and  what  probably  interested  Debby  more, 
bearing  it  manfully.     "  Not,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  would  put 
a  beast's  life  against  a  man's ;  but  she  is  a  good  creature,  and 
a  sarviceable,  and  it  is  a  shame  for  the  boys  to  neglect  her  be- 
cause she  grows  a  little  old  and  unsightly."     The  boys,  as  she 
denominated  two  full-grown  young  men,  who  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  exchanged  smiles,  as  if  they  were  too  much  inured 
to  this  privileged  railer,  to  heed  her  reproaches.     Mr.  Redwood 
shrunk  from  her  touch  as  she  approached  him ;    but  without 
noticing  his  alarm,  she  thrust  her  arm  into  an  enormous  pocket, 
which  hung  on  one  side  of  her  gaunt  person,  and  extricating 
from  its  miscellaneous  contents  a  large  pair  of  scissors,  (which 
one  would  have  thought  stood  as  little  chance  of  being  found 
as  a  needle  in  a  hay-mow,)  she  cut  open  the  sleeve  of  the  coat 
with  more  care  and  adroitness  than  could  have  been  expected 
from  such  an  operator,  and  then  unceremoniously  tearing  down 
the  shirt  sleeve,  she  proceeded  to  the  examination  of  the  arm, 
which  she  pronounced  a  bad  business.     The  shoulder  she  said 


28  REDWOOD 

was  out  of  joint,  and  a  breakage  into  the  bargain :  "and  do  you, 
James,"  said  she,  turning  to  one  of  the  young  men,  "mount  Rover, 
and  go  for  Doctor  Bristol,  and  tell  him  to  come  as  fast  as  horse- 
flesh can  bring  him,  for  it  an't  all  creation  can  set  this  arm 
after  to-night.  And  James,  child,"  she  added,  '-be  careful  when 
you  take  Rover  out  of  the  stable,  not  to  hit  the  old  mare ;  for 
beasts  have  feelings  too.'*' 

There  had  been  such  promptness  in  Miss  Debby's  proceed- 
ings, and  the  family  was  obviously  so  much  in  the  habit  of 
obeying  her  orders,  that  Mr.  Redwood  had  not  as  yet  been  able 
to  interpose  a  question ;  but  as  James  turned  to  execute  Deb- 
by's order,  he  said,  "  Stop,  young  man  ;  before  you  go  I  should 
like  to  know  who  this  Dr.  Bristol  is,  and  to  ascertain  his  ability 
to  perform  a  delicate  operation  ;  and  I  must  know  from  you, 
my  friend,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  master  of  the  house, 
(whom  he  had  just  recognized  to  be  the  same  person  who  had 
so  kindly  invited  him  to  accept  a  shelter  beneath  his  roof.) 
"  whether  you  can  accommodate  my  daughter  and  myself,  while 
we  may  be  detained  by  this  unlucky  accident." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lenox  (the  farmer  and  his  wife.)  were  eager- 
ly beginning  to  proffer  their  hospitality,  with  the  courtesy  of 
genuine  kindness,  when  Debby  interrupted  them,  with  saying, 
"  Go  along,  James,  this  is  no  time  to  stand  upon  compliments, 
go  like  the  wind ;  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile." 

James  obeyed  ;  and  Mr.  Lenox  said,  <:  I  believe  you  may 
trust  Dr.  Bristol,  sir ;  he  doctors  all  the  country  round,  and  in 
all  curable  cases,  under  Providence,  he  cures.  He  studied  in 
Philadelphia  under  Rush,  and  has  but  few  equals  in  these 
parts." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Debby,  "  nor  in  any  other  parts :  he  is  a 
real  likely  man,  and  they  an't  much  thicker  any  where  than 
swallows  in  January." 


REDWOOD.  29 

"But,"  interposed  Mr.  Lenox,  "as  the  gentleman  is  a 
stranger  among  us,  it  is  natural,  and  very  right  that  he  should 
be  mistrustful." 

"  Oh,  quite  right,"  replied  Debby,  "  and  rational ;  and  I 
like  him  all  the  better  for  it ;  none  but  your  parfect  fools  be- 
lieve iu  any  thing  and  every  body.  But  it  is,"  she  continued, 
•with  the  gout  of  an  amateur  in  the  matter,  "  it  is  a  real  plea- 
sure to  see  Dr.  Bristol  set  bones ;  it  is  beautiful.  There  was  Tom 
Russell,  fool  and  madcap  that  he  was,  and  bating  his  being  a 
human  creature,  better  dead  than  alive,  that  fell  off  from  the 
steeple  of  our  meeting-house ;  there  was  scarce  a  whole  bone 
left  in  his  body ;  and  when  the  doctor  first  overhauled  him,  he 
looked  dumb-foundered,  for  he  is  tender-hearted  for  all  being 
a  doctor  ;  I  spirited  him  up,  and  he  went  to  work,  and  a  quicker, 
neater  piece  of  work  never  has  been  done  since  the  days  of 
miracles:  the  bones  went  snap,  crack,  like  the  guns  of  our 
militia  boys  ;  not  quite  so  loud  may-be,  but  full  as  reglar." 

"  God  grant,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Redwood,  (who  had  been 
writhing  under  Debby's  story,)  "  that  your  doctor  may  not  have 
lost  his  gifts,  nor  his  skill."  "  No,"  replied  Debby,  "  a  wise 
man  an't  apt  to  lose  either."  Mr.  Redwood  felt  a  natural  ap- 
prehension, lest  he  should  not  be  able  to  obtain  the  aid  of  this 
physician,  whose  skill  seemed  to  have  inspired  such  confi- 
dence, and  he  inquired  of  Mr.  Lenox  if  he  thought  it  probable 
the  messenger  would  find  him  at  home.  "  Almost  certain," 
replied  Mr.  Lenox,  "  he  was  here  yesterday  to  pay  his  last 
visit  to  a  young  man  who  has  been  a  long  time  sick,  poor  fel- 
low :  he  died  last  evening." 

"  A  consolatory  proof  of  your  doctor's  skill,"  murmured 
Mr.  Redwood. 

Half  a  dozen  mouths  were  opened  at  once,  to  explain  the 
doctor's  failure.  Deborah's  shrill  tones  prevailed  over  every 


SO  REDWOOD 

other  voice  ;  "  Our  days  are  all  numbered,  man,"  she  said,  "  and 
to  all  there  comes  a  sickness  that  neither  doctors  nor  doctors' 
trade  can  cure :  and  besides,  as  to  in'ard  diseases,  there's  none 
but  your  pretensioners  that  profess  to  understand  and  cure 
them  at  all  times  and  places." 

"  And  poor  Edward,"  interposed  Mr.  Lenox,  ':  died.  I  be- 
lieve, of  that  which  you  may  well  call  an  inward  disease,  for 
which  there  is  no  help  in  this  world,  a  broken  heart." 

"  As  much  that  as  any  thing,"  said  Debby  ;  "  at  least  that 
might  be  called  the  'casion  of  it  all ;  and  it  is  far  easier,"  she 
continued,  looking  at  Mr.  Redwood,  "  mending  broken  bones 
than  broken  hearts." 

"  And  far  easier  breaking  bones  than  hearts,"  replied  Mr. 
Redwood. 

"  That,"  said  the  indefatigable  Deborah,  "  depends  some- 
thing upon  what  the  heart  is  made  of.  Some  hearts  are  tough 
as  a  bull's  hide  ;  you  might  as  well  break  a  rock  with  sun- 
beams as  break  them  with  such  troubles  as  snapped  the  cord  of 
poor  Eddy,  a  weakly  narvous  feeling  creature."  Mr.  Redwood 
was  suffering  too  severely  to  indulge  any  curiosity  in  relation 
to  Eddy.  All  parties  became  silent,  and  remained  so  until  the 
arrival  of  the  physician,  save  the  occasional  interruption  of  a 
groan  from  the  stranger,  or  an  expression  of  sympathy  from  some 
one  of  the  group  that  surrounded  his  bed.  We  may  profitably 
fill  this  interval  with  a  description  of  the  various  persons  that 
the  occasion  had  assembled.  And  first,  as  most  conspicuous, 
the  stranger,  mutilated  as  he  was,  appeared  a  finely  formed  and 
graceful  man,  with  a  certain  air  of  high-breeding,  which  even 
an  unpractised  eye  may  detect  in  the  most  unfavorable 
circumstances.  He  was  rather  above  the  ordinary  height,  and 
extremely  thin.  His  high  forehead,  from  which  the  hair  had 
receded,  the  hair  itself, 


REDWOOD.  31 

"  Jet  black  save  where  some  touch  of  gray 
Had  ta'en  the  youthful  hue  away," 

and  the  deep  furrow  in  his  cheeks,  indicated  that  sorrow,  in 
some  of  its  Protean  shapes,  had  accelerated  the  work  of  time ; 
that  the  fruit  which  youth  had  promised,  had  been  blasted— 
not  ripened.  His  face  was  a  history;  but  there  were  few  that 
possessed  the  key  by  which  the  settled  gloom  of  his  pallid  brow, 
and  the  melancholy  of  his  fine  hazle  eye  might  have  been  in- 
terpreted. The  figure  of  Deborah,  supporting  the  elegant  tra- 
veller, looked  like  the  rough-hewn  stone  beside  the  exquisitely 
polished  statue  on  which  the  sculptor  has  expended  all  his  art. 

Miss  Debby's  person,  mind,  and  history,  were  altogether 
singular.  Her  height  was  rather  above  the  grenadier  standard,  as 
she  exceeded  by  one  inch  six  feet ;  her  stature  and  her  weather- 
beaten  skin  would  have  led  one  to  suspect  that  her  feminine 
dress  was  a  vain  attempt  at  disguise,  had  not  her  voice,  which 
possessed  the  shrillness  which  is  the  peculiar  attribute  of  a 
woman's,  testified  to  Miss  Debby's  right  to  make  pretensions 
which  at  the  first  glance  seemed  monstrous ;  her  quick  gray 
eye,  shaded  by  huge,  bushy  eyebrows,  indicated  sagacity  and 
thought ;  time,  or  accident,  had  made  such  ravages  on  her 
teeth,  that  but  a  very  few  remained,  and  they  stood  like  hardy 
veterans  who  have  by  dint  of  superior  strength  survived  their 
contemporaries. 

As  Debby  would  not  voluntarily  encumber  herself  with 
any  toilette  duties  that  could  in  decency  be  dispensed  with, 
she  had  never  put  any  covering  on  her  hair,  which  time  had 
now  considerably  grizzled  ;  but  she  wore  it  confined  in  one  long 
braid,  and  so  closely  bound  with  a  black  ribbon,  that  it  did  not 
require,  in  her  judgment,  more  than  a  weekly  adjustment.  The 
only  relic  of  worldly  or  womanly  vanity  which  Debby  displayed, 
was  a  string  of  gold  beads,  which,  according  to  a  tradition  that 


32  REDWOOD. 

had  been  carefully  transmitted  to  the  younger  members  of  the 
family,  had  been  given  to  their  Aunt  Debby  some  thirty  years 
before  by  a  veteran  soldier,  who,  at  the  close  of  our  revolution- 
ary war,  was  captivated  by  the  martial  air  of  this  then  young 
Amazon. 

But  Debby  was  so  imbued  with  the  independeq^Bpirit  of 
the  times,  that  she  would  not  then  consent  to  the  surrender  of 
any  of  her  rights :  and  there  was  no  tradition  in  the  family 
that  her  maidenly  pride  had  suffered  a  second  solicitation. 
The  careful  preservation  of  the  beads,  and  a  certain  kindli- 
ness and  protecting  air  towards  all  mankind,  indicated  ever 
after  a  grateful  recollection  of  her  lover.  On  the  whole,  there 
was  in  Deborah's  face,  rough  and  ungainly  as  it  was,  an  expres- 
sion of  benevolence  that  humanized  its  hard  features,  and  affect- 
ed one  like  the  sunbeams  on  a  frosty  November  day.  She 
was  an  elder  sister  of  Mr.  Lenox ;  had  always  resided  with 
his  family ;  and  was  treated  with  deference  by  all  its  amiable 
members. 

Mr.  Lenox,  as  master  of  the  family,  was  entitled  to  pre- 
cedence in  our  description  ;  but  in  this  instance,  as  in  many 
others,  a  prominent  character  has  controlled  the  arrangement 
of  accidental  circumstances.  He  belonged  to  the  mass  of  New- 
England  farmers,  was  industrious  and  frugal,  sober  and  tem- 
perate, and  enjoyed  the  reward  of  those  staple  virtues,  good 
health  and  a  competency.  He  was  rather  distinguished  for  the 
passive  than  the  active  virtues,  patient  and  contented ;  he 
either  enjoyed  with  tranquillity,  or  resigned  without  repining. 
His  wife  (we  believe  not  a  singular  case  in  matrimonial  histo- 
ry,) was  his  superior :  intelligent,  well-informed,  enterprising, 
and  efficient,  she  was  accounted  by  all  her  neighbors  an  ambi- 
tious woman.  The  lofty  may  smile  with  contempt,  that  the 
equivocal  virtue,  which  is  appropriated  to  the  Ctesars  and  the 


REDWOOD.  33 

Napoleons,  should  be  so  much  as  mentioned  in  the  low  vales  of 
humble  life.  But  the  reasonable  will  not  dispute  that  Mrs. 
Lenox  made  ambition  virtue,  when  they  learn  that  all  her  aspi- 
rations after  distinction  were  limited  to  the  appropriate  duties 
of  her  station.  Her  husband  and  sons  wore  the  finest  cloth 

that  was  ^knufactured  in  the  county  of .    Mrs.  Lenox's 

table  wa^rovered  with  the  handsomest  and  the  whitest  diaper. 
Her  butter  and  cheese  commanded  the  highest  price  in  the 
market.  Besides  her  homebred  virtues,  she  possessed  the  al- 
most universal  passion  of  her  country  for  intellectual  pleasures. 
She  read  with  avidity  herself,  and  eagerly  seized  every  oppor- 
tunity for  the  improvement  of  her  children.  She  had  married 
very  young,  and  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life.  The  elder  mem- 
bers of  her  family  were  already  educated  and  established  in  the 
world ;  and  she  had  the  prospect  of  enjoying  what  Franklin 
reckons  among  the  benefits  of  our  early  marriages,  "  an  after- 
noon and  evening  of  cheerful  leisure."  Her  eldest  son,  with 
very  little  aid  from  his  parents,  had,  by  his  own  virtuous  exer- 
tions, obtained  a  collegiate  and  theological  education,  and  was 
established  a  popular  clergyman  in  one  of  the  southern  cities. 
Her  second  son  had  emigrated  to  Ohio,  and  had  already  trans- 
mitted to  his  parents  a  drawing  and  description  of  a  prosper- 
ous little  town,  where,  five  years  before,  his  axe  had  first  an- 
nounced man's  right  to  dominion  over  the  forest.  Two  sons 
remained  at  home  to  labor  on  the  paternal  farm ;  and  four 
girls,  from  ten  to  eighteen,  diligent,  good-humored,  and  intelli- 
gent, completedJihe  circle  of  the  domestic  felicities  of  this  happy 
family.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lenox  had  the  wise  and  dutiful 
habit,  which,  in  almost  any  condition,  might  generate  coflpit- 
ment.  of  looking  at  their  own  possessions,  to  awaken  their  gra- 
titude, rather  than  by  comparing  the  superior  advantages  of 

others  with  their  meaner  possessions,  to  dash  their  own  cup 

o* 


34  REDWOOD. 

with  the  venom  of  discontent  and  envy,  a  few  drops  of  which 
will  poison  the  sweetest  draught  ever  prepared  by  a  paternal 
Providence. 

On  the  kindness  of  this  family  Mr.  Redwood  and  his 
daughter  were  cast  for  the  present ;  and  proud  and  powerful 
in  the  possession  of  rank  and  fortune.  Miss  lie  wood  was 
obliged  to  learn  the  humiliating  truth,  that  no  hunn^Jreature 
can  command  independence.  Mr.  Redwood  had  been  all  his 
life  a  traveller,  and  was  a  man  of  the  world.  He  comprehend- 
ed at  once  the  embarrassments  of  his  situation,  and  gracefully 
accommodated  himself  to  the  inconveniences  of  it,  and  in  such 
a  way,  as  to  conciliate  the  favor  of  the  good-hearted  people 
about  him.  How  far  his  daughter  imitated  his  wise  example 
the  following  pages  will  show. 


» 


REDWOOD.  35 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  A  country  doctor;"  said  Touchwood  sneeringly  ;  "  you  will  never  be 
able  to  make  any  thing  of  him." — THE  CYNIC. 

BEFORE  the  return  of  James  Lenox  with  the  physician,  Mr. 
Redwood  had  made  an  arrangement  with  Mr.  Lenox,  who 
consented  to  consider  the  strangers  as  boarders  while  Mr. 
Redwood's  accident  should  detain  him  at  the  place  we  shall 
call  Eton.  Some  little  bustle  in  the  entry  announced  the  arri- 
val of  the  physician,  and  he  entered  the  apartment  followed  by 
Caroline,  who  with  more  alarm  than  she  had  testified  before, 
advanced  hastily  to  her  father,  and  said,  in  a  tone  which  though, 
a  little  depressed  was  still  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  all 
the  by-standers — "  My  dear  father,  you  surely  will  not  suffer 
yourself  to  be  murdered  by  a  country  doctor :  pray,  pray,  re- 
member poor  Rose." 

"Your  gr«|dmother's  lapdog?  dp  not  be  a  simpleton, 
Caroline  ?" 

"I  do  not  see,"  replied  Caroline,  still  in  a  tone  of  eager 
expostulation,  "  how  Rose,  being  a  dog,  alters  the  case.  I  am 
sure  grandmaina  thought  as  much  of  her  as  of  any  friend  she 
had  in  the  world.  May  not,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  phy- 
sician, "  may  not  my  father  wait  till  a  surgeon  can  be  obtained 
from  Boston  or  New- York?" 

"  Undoubtedly  he  may,"  replied  the  the  doctor,  smiling. 


36  REDWOOD. 

"And  without  danger?"  inquired  Mr.  Redwood,  who  seem 
ed  to  have  become  infected  with  his  daughter's  apprehensions. 

"  Possibly  without  danger,"  replied  the  physician,  "  though 
I  should  apprehend  not  without  great  additional  suffer  ing." 

"  Better  to  suffer  than  to  die,"  urged  Caroline. 

"  I  trust  your  father  is  not  reduced  to  that  alternative," 
replied  the  physician.  "  Such  accidents  are  inconvement,  but 
seldom  fatal  Shall  I,  sir."  he  added,  turning  to  Mr.  Red- 
wood, "  proceed  to  the  examination  of  your  arm  ?" 

The  modest  demeanor  and  manly  promptness  of  the  doctor 
inspired  his  patient  with  confidence ;  and  ashamed  of  having 
for  a  moment  yielded  to  the  weakness  of  his  daughter,  he  said, 
"  Proceed,  sir,  certainly.  Forgive  my  daughter's  scruples — 
she  is  alarmed,  and  inexperienced." 

"  She  is  a  dum  fool,"  muttered  Debby  (using  a  favorite 
expression  borrowed  from  the  Dutch  rustics) ;  and  laying  her 
arm  on  Caroline's,  with  a  force  to  compel  obedience,  she  push- 
ed her  out  of  the  room,  and  then  with  an  absolute  command, 
dispersing  all  but  those  whose  assistance  was  required,  she 
prepare  to  obey  the  orders  of  Doctor  Bristol,  to  whom  she  evi- 
dently deferred  as  to  a  master  operator.  The  physician  in  his 
turn  treated  her  as  a  confidential  agent ;  and  so  quietly,  skil- 
fully, and  expeditiously  did  he  perform  the  operation,  that  he 
fully  substantiated,  in  the  judgment  of  his  grateful  patient,  all 
the  praise  that  had  been  lavished  on  him.  Mr.  Redwood  bore 
the  operation  with  stoical  firmness,  but  after  it  was  over  his 
strength  seemed  much  exhausted. 

His  physician  ordered  that  he  should  be  kept  perfectly 
'inlet,  and  tliat  no  one  should  have  access  to  the  room  !-nt 
those  whose  services  were  necessary.  He  inquired  of  Mr.  Red- 
wood if  he  preferred  that  his  daughter  should  stay  with  him. 
Mr.  Redwood,  sighing  deeply,  replied  that  his  daughter  was  too 


REDWOOD.  37 

much  unaccustomed  to  scenes  of  this  kind  to  be  of  any  use  to 
him ;  and  the  physician  proceeded  to  make  arrangements  with 
Mrs.  Lenox  and  Deborah.  The  result  of  their  deliberations  was, 
that  Deborah  should  keep  this  night's  vigil  at  the  bed  of  the 
sick  man. 

These  important  arrangements  being  made,  Doctor  Bristol 
undertook  to  inform  Miss  Redwood  of  her  father's  amended 
condition.  She  received  the  intelligence  with  less  animation 
than  might  have  been  reasonably  anticipated  from  the  appre- 
hensions she  had  expressed.  "  She  was  glad."  she  said,  "  it  was 
all  over,  for  she  was  tired  to  death,  and  wished  to  go  to  her 
room." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  officious  domestic,  "  you  are  tired,  Miss 
Carry,  you  look  very  sick ;  as  pale  as  a  ghost." 

"  Oh  Lilly,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  "  that  is  impossible,  for  I 
never  lose  my  color,  you  know ;"  and  she  ran  briskly  to  a  look- 
ing-glass, which,  shrouded  in  gauze,  and  bedecked  with  festoons  . 
of  ground  pine,  adorned  Mrs.  Lenox's  neat  parlor.  The  mir- 
ror was  imperfect,  and  it  sent  back  as  distorted  a  resemblance 
of  the  disappointed  beauty,  as  if  spleen  and  envy  had  reflected 
the  image.  "  Oh  Lord  !  Lord  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  would  be 
the  death  of  me  to  see  myself  again  in  that  odious  glass.'' 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Doctor  Bristol.  "  We  have  specifics 
against  such  dangers  in  this  retirement,  where  there  are  few  to 
admire,  and  none  to  flatter." 

"  Are  all  your  specifics  caustics,  Doctor  ?" 

"  Oh  no  !"  replied  the  Doctor,  smiling  very  pleasantly,  (for 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  his  instinctive  indignation  at  Miss 
Kedwood's  insensibility  was  softened  by  her  matchless  beauty  ;) 
"  no,  we  prescribe  caustics  for  inveterate  diseases  only :  for  the 
young  and  susceptible  we  have  gentler  remedies." 

"  And  your  cure  for  vanity  is  — 


38  REDWOOD. 

"  Abstinence — or,  a  low  diet  often  subdues  the  violence  of 
the  symptoms — the  disease  is  of  the  chronic  order,  seldom 
cured.  But  do  not  imagine  that  I  have  the  presumption  to 
prescribe  for  you,  Miss  Redwood,  ignorant  as  I  am  even  of  the 
existence  of  the  malady." 

"Your  prescription,  sir,  would,  at  any  rate,  be  quite  super- 
fluous," replied  Caroline,  arranging  while  she  spoke  with  evi- 
dent satisfaction,  her  dark  glossy  curls  before  the  mirror  of 
her  dressing-case,  which  Lilly  (with  the  true  instinct  of  a  lady's 
maid,)  had  placed  before  her  mistress ;  "  vanity  will  die  of  star- 
vation in  this  solitude." 

"  Oh  my  dear  young  lady,  you  are  ignorant  of  the  disease," 
rejoined  the  doctor ;  "  there  is  no  element  in  which  it  cannot 
live,  and  thrive,  and  find  food  convenient  for  it.  I  am  not 
much  skilled  in  the  history  of  classic  gentry ;  but  if  I  remem- 
ber right,  it  was  not  the  flatteries  of  a  court  or  a  multitude, 
.  hat  cost  poor  Narcissus  his  life,  but  a  rustic,  truth-telling, 
•woodland  stream :  depend  on  it,  Miss  Redwood,  the  danger  is 
within ;  and  '  inward  diseases,'  as  my  friend  Debby  calls  them, 
are  apt  to  baffle  the  most  skilful." 

"  That  being  so,  sir,"  retorted  Miss  Redwood,  "  it  may  be 
well  to  reserve  your  skill  for  obvious  diseases  and  real  dan- 
gers." She  then  proceeded  to  inquire,  with  considerable  inte- 
rest, into  the  particulars  of  her  father's  injury;  and  concluded 
by  asking  how  long  they  should  be  detained  at  Eton. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  say,"  replied  the  doctor ;  "  five  or  six 
weeks ;  perhaps  longer.  Your  father's  recovery  must  depend 
somewhat  on  his  previous  health  and  stock  of  spirits." 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  a  desperate  case,  for  he  has  been  on  the 
verge  of  the  consumption  for  these  two  years ;  and  as  to  his 
spirits,  heaven  only  knows  when  he  had  any.  He  has  been  as 
dull  as  death  ever  since  I  remember  him." 


REDWOOD.  39 

u  Very  unfavorable,"  replied  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head ; 
"  but  a  parent's  melancholy  must  be  obstinate  indeed  to  resist 
the  cheering  efforts  of  a  child ;  and  I  trust,  Miss  Redwood, 
your  resolution  and  patience  will  be  equal  to  the  present  de- 
mand on  them." 

"  It  is  a  demand  I  cannot  answer,  sir.  I  might  as  well  call 
spirits  from  the  vasty  deep,  as  summon  mine  at  pleasure. 
Grrandmama  always  said  cheerfulness  was  a  virtue  for  common , 
people — quite  necessary  for  them.  I  am  never  melancholy, 
however.  Melancholy  only  suits  the  old  and  unfortunate ;  and 
if  I  must  remain  here,  I  will  try  not  to  hang  myself." 

"  A  virtuous  resolution,  truly." 

"  Doctor,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  after  a  few  moments'  pause, 
"  is  there  nothing  going  on  here ;  nothing  to  keep  one  alive  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  drily,  "from  this  very  house 
there  is  to  be  a  funeral  to-morrow." 

"  Quite  a  diverting  circumstance,"  rejoined  Caroline.  "  Pray, 
sir,  who  is  it  that  is  to  be  buried  ?  No  one  of  any  consequence, 
of  course." 

"  Goodness  is  the  only  consequence  that  we  acknowledge, 
in  our  rustic  life,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely;  "our  young 
friend's  escutcheon  has  no  blot  upon  it." 

Caroline  seemed  mortified,  and  did  not  pursue  her  inqui- 
ries, and  the  physician  took  his  leave  after  having  repeated  his 
orders  that  the  invalid  should  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible  till 
his  return  in  the  morning. 

Miss  Redwood  was  shown  into  a  small  but  very  neat  apart- 
ment, in  which  were  two  beds :  one  of  them  had  just  been  ar- 
ranged for  her  accommodation.  "  This  bed  is  for  me,  is  it  ?M 
she  inquired,  turning  to  a  little  girl  who  was  her  conductor, 
and  at  the  same  moment  negligently  throwing  down  her  hat  on 
a  neatly  quilted  spread,  as  white  as  snow. 


40  REDWOOD. 

"  Yes,  miss,  that  is  yours,"  replied  the  child. 

"  And  the  other  is  my  servant's  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  miss,  that  is  Ellen's  !" 

"  Well,  you  little  thing,  what  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Lucy,"  replied  the  child,  dropping  a  courtesy. 

"  Well,  Lucy,  ask  your  mother  to  order  a  bed  made  for  my 
servant  here." 

"  I  can  ask  her,"  replied  the  child ;  "  but,"  she  added  in  a 
lower  tone  as  she  was  leaving  the  room,  "  I  guess  she  won't  feel 
it  consistent  to  put  that  black  girl  into  Ellen's  room." 

Lucy,  however,  notwithstanding  her  prediction,  returned  in 
a  few  moments  to  say  that  Miss  Redwood's  request  was  grant- 
ed ;  "  and  you  may  thank  Ellen  for  it,"  she  added,  "  for  mother 
would  not  hear  to  it  till  Ellen  begged  her." 

"  Well,  well,  child,  you  may  go  now — it  is  all  very  well.  I 
shall  take  care  to  compensate  your  mother,  and  this  Ellen  too, 
for  any  favors  they  may  grant  me.  Lilly,"  she  added,  turning 
to  her  servant,  "  undress  me,  and  make  over  that  bed,  it  is  not 
likely  these  people  know  how  to  make  a  bed.  Pin  down  the 
undersheet  all  around  as  grandmama  has  hers ;  I  feel  fidgety 
to-night,  and  a  wrinkle  would  disturb  me — heigho  !  how  long 
is  it  since  we  left  Montreal,  Lilly  ?" 

"  Two  days,  Miss  Gary." 

"  Two  days  !  what  an  age  it  seems :  two  days  since  I  parted 
from  the  divine  Fitzgerald,  and  it  will  be  twice  that  number  of 
weeks  before  I  see  another  civilized  being.  That  old  jade  that 
told  my  fortune,  coming  down  the  lake,  was  not  so  much  out 
when  she  said  I  should  meet  with  losses  and  crosses ;  but  who 
could  have  dreamed  of  such  a  cross  as  this  ?  And  then  to 
think  that  the  Craytons  will  get  to  Boston  before  us ;  and 
Maria  will  contrive  to  show  off  her  French  dresses  first.  Oh, 
it  is  too  provoking  !  For  heaven's  sake,  Lilly,  stow  away  my 


REDWOOD.  41 

large  trunk  out  of  my  sight ;  it  will  make  me  wretched  to  see 
those  beautiful  dresses  of  Le  Moine's  all  lying  idle,  getting 
yellow,  and  old-fashioned."  Thus  Miss  Redwood  continued  to 
run  on,  half  to  her  servant,  and  half  to  herself,  till  she  lost  in 
sleep  the  consciousness  of  her  disappointments. 


4?  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  III. 

'•'  Fleecy  locks  and  black  complexion 

Cannot  forfeit  nature's  claim  ; 
Skins  may  differ,  but  affection 

Dwells  in  white  and  black  the  same." 

Cowper. 


HENRY  REDWOOD  was  a  native  of  Virginia,  that  State  of  the 
Union  where  the  patrician  rank  has  escaped  in  the  greatest 
degree,  the  levelling  principle  of  republicanism.  His  father 
was  a  rich  planter  :  adhering  pertinaciously  to  the  custom  of 
his  predecessors,  he  determined  that  his  eldest  son  should  in- 
herit his  large  landed  property.  To  Henry  he  gave  a  good 
education,  and  designed  that  he  should  resort  to  the  usual  ex- 
pedient of  unportioned  gentility,  compensating  by  his  marriage 
for  the  defects  of  his  inheritance.  He  was  early  destined  to 
be  the  husband  of  Maria  Manning,  the  only  daughter  of  Mr. 
Redwood's  sister,  a  rich  widow  who  resided  in  Charleston, 
South  Carolina. 

Henry  Redwood  had  originally  a  highly  gifted  mind,  and 
strong  affections  ;  under  happy  influences  he  might  have  become 
the  benefactor  of  his  country,  its  ornament  and  blessing ;  or 
he  might  in  domestic  life  have  illustrated  the  virtues  that  are 
appropriate  to  its  quiet  paths.  His  father  trained  his  eldest 
son  in  his  own  habits,  which  were  those  of  an  English  country 


REDWOOD.  43 

squire.  Henry  was  left  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  own  inclina- 
tions, and  possessing  a  less  robust  constitution  than  his  brother, 
and  a  contemplative  turn  of  mind,  he  preferred  sedentary  to 
active  pursuits.  He  early  manifested  a  decided  taste  for 
literature;  he  had  an  acute  perception  of  the  beautiful  in 
poetry,  in  nature  and  in  action  ;  he  loved  the  virtues  that  illus- 
trate the  pages  of  the  moralist,  and  he  sympathized  with  the 
examples  of  heroism  which  the  poet  and  the  historian  have  res- 
cued from  the  ashes  of  past  ages. 

But  unhappily  he  saw  few  resemblances  in  life  to  these  fair 
portraits.  His  father's  character  was  of  the  coarsest  texture  ; 
his  life  when  not  devoted  to  the  gaming  table,  the  excitements 
of  the  race-ground,  or  the  stimulating  pleasures  of  the  chase, 
was  wasted  in  the  most  perfect  indolence  at  home :  his  mother 
had  been  a  beauty,  and  possessed  many  of  the  gentle  qualities 
of  her  sex;  but,  unresisting  and  timid  in  her  nature,  she  had 
fallen  into  such  habits  of  unqualified  submission  to  her  hus- 
band, that  she  had  no  longer  courage  to  assert  the  rights  of 
virtue,  or  power  to  impress  them  on  her  children.  Young  Red- 
wood had  one  friend,  the  son  of  a  neighboring  planter,  whom 
he  called  his  good  genius,  and  his  elevated  character  and  rare 
purity  entitled  him  to  this  distinction.  The  influence  of  his 
virtues  and  affection  might,  perhaps,  have  preserved  Henry 
from  the  errors  of  his  after  life,  but  their  opportunities  of  in- 
tercourse were  rare  and  brief,  in  consequence  of  political  ani- 
mosity between  their  parents,  and  before  Henry  had  received 
impressions  deep  enough  to  mature  into  principle  the  strong,.' 
inspirations  of  feeling,  he  was  sent  to  college ;  there,  by  one 
of  those  unlucky  chances  that  sometimes  give  a  color  to  the 
destiny  of  life,  he  was  led.  first  to  an  acquaintance,  and  subse- 
quently to  an  intimacy,  with  an  unprincipled  man,  by  the  name 
of  Alsop.  This  man  possessed  plausible  talents  and  insinua- 


44  REDWOOD. 

ting  manners ;  but  his  mind  had  been  contaminated  by  the  in- 
fidelity fashionable  at  that  period,  and  his  vanity  was  stimu- 
lated by  the  hope  of  adding  to  his  little  band  of  converts  Sk 
young  man  of  Kedwood's  acknowledged  genius. 

The  insidious  eloquence  of  Gibbon,  the  audacious  wit  of 
Voltaire,  the  subtle  arguments  of  Hume,  and  all  that  reck- 
less and  busy  infidelity  has  imagined  and  invented,  were  ar- 
rayed by  this  skilful  champion  against  the  accidental  faith  of 
Henry  Redwood :  for  that  faith  may  surely  be  called  acciden- 
tal which  knows  no  reason  for  its  existence,  but  is  the  result  of 
being  born  in  a  Christian  community,  and  of  an  occasional  at- 
tendance at  church.  The  triumph  was  an  easy  one.  Red- 
wood's vision,  like  that  of  other  unbelievers,  was  dazzled  by 
the  ignis  fatuus  that  his  own  vanity  had  kindled;  and  like 
them,  he  flattered  himself  that  he  was  making  great  discover- 
ies, because  he  had  turned  from  the  road  which  was  travelled 
by  the  vulgar  throng. 

With  the  free  and  even  licentious  speculations  of  the  closet, 
young  Redwood  was  not  surpassed  by  any  of  his  new  intimates ; 
but  he  had  a  refinement  of  taste,  which,  though  it  would  not 
have  opposed  an  effectual  barrier  to  strong  temptation,  deter- 
red him  from  associating  himself  with  them  in  their  gross  and 
profligate  pleasures. 

He  was  sometimes  disgusted,  but  never  shocked  by  their 
profligacy.  He  maintained,  that  whatever  a  man  called  good, 
was  good  to  him  ;  and  that,  released  from  the  thraldom  of  fear- 
ing a  visionary  future,  he  was  at  liberty  to  disengage  himself 
from  the  galling  fetters  which  virtue  and  religion  impose,  and 
to  expatiate  without  apprehension  or  compunction  in  a  region 
of  perfect  liberty.  A  little  reflection,  and  a  very  short  expe- 
rience, taught  him  that  these  principles  would  dissolve  society; 
and  then,  like  some  other  philosophers,  he  adopted  expediency 


REDWOOD.  45 

for  his  rule  of  right.  He  found  it  to  be  impossible  so  sudden- 
ly to  emancipate  men  from  the  slavery  of  prejudice ;  "  some 
hundred  years  must  pass  away  before  the  downfall  of  the  pre- 
vailing systems  of  superstition."  The  enlightened  must  sub- 
mit, while  the  ignorant  are  the  majority ;  and  a  man's  conduct 
must  be  graduated  by  the  standard  of  the  community  in  which 
he  lives. 

Opinion  was  the  rule,  and  ignorance  the  presiding  deity, 
in  this  new  creed.  Still,  Henry  Redwood's  reason  was  not 
quite  obscured,  nor  his  heart  quite  depraved.  He  often  turned 
from  the  heartless  pages  of  infidelity  to  the  inspiration  of  vir- 
tue, and  found,  that  while  the  first  controlled  his  judgment,  the 
latter  could  alone  sway  his  affections.  A  virtuous  action  would 
send  an  involuntary  glow  to  his  cheek,  and  make  him  wish  he 
had  never  doubted  the  reality  of  the  principle  that  produced  it. 

Redwood  was  ambitious;  and  after  having  won  the  firs': 
literary  honors  of  his  college,  he  returned  to  his  family  elated 
with  success,  and  proud  of  his  superiority.  He  again  met  the 
friend  of  his  youth,  Edmund  Westall,  who,  during  their  sepa- 
ration, had  become  a  married  man ;  and  in  whose  family  Red- 
wood found  irresistible  attractions.  Westall  was  a  few  years 
older  than  Redwood ;  and  there  was  an  authority  in  his  exam- 
ple that  could  not  well  be  evaded,  and  a  persuasion  in  his  good- 
ness that  touched  Redwood's  heart.  He  felt  it  like  an  exor- 
cism that  conjured  out  of  him  every  evil  spirit. 

But  the  state  of  his  own  mind  will  be  best  shown  by  a  let- 
ter which  he  wrote  at  this  time  to  his  infidel  friend. 

"  Some  months  have  elapsed,  dear  Alsop,  since  we  parted, 
and  parted  with  a  truly  juvenile  promise  to  keep  up  an  unre- 
mitting epistolary  intercourse.  And  this  I  believe  is  the  first 
essay  made  by  either  of  us ;  a  fair  illustration  of  the  common 
proportion  which  performance  bears  to  such  promises.  You,  no 


46  REDWOOD. 

doubt,  have  been  roving  from  pleasure  to  pleasure,  with  an  un- 
tiring impulse,  and  your  appetite,  like  the  horseleech,  has  still 
cried,  '  give,  give.'  If  one  of  your  vagrant  thoughts  has  stray- 
ed after  me,  you  have  doubtless  fancied  me  immured  in  my 
study,  pursuing  my  free  inquiries,  abandoning  the  falling  sys- 
tems of  vulgar  invention,  and  soaring  far  over  the  misty  atmos- 
phere of  imposture  and  credulity.  Or,  perhaps,  you  imagine 
that  I  have  adopted  your  sapient  advice,  have  returned  to  my 
home  a  dutiful  child,  gracefully  worn  the  chains  of  filial  obedi- 
ence, made  my  best  bow  to  papa,  and  with  a  '  just  as  you  please, 
sir,'  fallen,  secundum  artem,  desperately  in  love  with  my  beau- 
tiful, and  beautifully  rich  cousin ;  have  rather  taken  than  ask- 
ed her  willing  hand,  and  thus  opened  for  myself  the  path  of 
ambition,  or  the  golden  gates  that  lead  to  the  regions  of  plea- 
sure, and  which  none  but  fortune's  key  can  open.  But,  alas  ! 
the  most  reasonable  hopes  are  disappointed  by  our  fantastic 
destiny.  We  are  the  sport  of  chance ;  and  as  you  confess  no 
other  deity,  you  are  bound  not  to  deride  any  of  the  whimsical 
dilemmas  into  which  its  votaries  are  led.  Alsop,  you  have 
often  commended  the  boldness  of  my  mind,  while  you  laughed 
at  a  certain  involuntary  homage  I  paid  to  the  beautiful  pictures 
of  goodness,  which  some  dreaming  enthusiasts  have  presented 
to  us,  or  to  the  moral  beauty  which,  among  all  the  varieties  of 
accidental  combination,  is  sometimes  exhibited  in  real  life. 

"  Have  I  prepared  you  to  hear  the  confession,  that  I  am  at 
this  present  moment  the  blind  and  willing  dupe  of  goodness, 
(I  mean,  what  the  moralists  call  goodness.)  embodied  in  a  form, 
that  might  soften  a  stoic,  convert  an  infidel,  make  of  you  an 
enthusiast,  or  perform  any  other  miracle  ? 

"  You  have  heard  me  make  honorable  mention  of  my  friend 
Westall.  He  is  by  some  years  my  elder,  three  or  four  at  least. 
I  think  I  never  related  the  circumstances  of  our  introduction 


REDWOOD.  47 

to  each  other ;  I  am  quite  certain  I  did  not,  for  you  would  have 
laughed  at  them ;  they  may  now  serve  to  elucidate  to  you  my 
friend's  character,  and  to  account  for  our  early  and  reciprocal 
interest. 

"  My  father  had  among  his  servants  a  native  African  ;  one 
of  those  men  whom  nature  has  endowed  with  a  giant  frame, 
and  correspondent  qualities  of  mind.  At  the  time  my  father 
purchased  him,  he  was  separated  from  his  wife  and  two  chil- 
dren, girls ;  the  only  boy  my  father  purchased  with  him,  whe- 
ther because  he  thought  the  presence  of  the  child  would  help 
to  keep  the  father  in  heart,  or  from  a  transient  feeling  of  com- 
passion for  the  poor  wretch,  I  know  not.  The  wife  had  suffer- 
ed deplorably  from  the  voyage,  and  was  knocked  down  with  her 
two  girls  to  a  Georgian,  for  a  trifle.  You  do  not  know  my 
father :  suffice  it  to  say,  that  selfishness  and  habit  have  made 
him  quite  insensible  to  the  sufferings  of  these  poor  devils,  whom 
he  classes  with  other  brutes  born  for  our  service.  But  there 
was  something  extraordinary  in  the  strong  affections  and  un- 
conquerable temper  of  this  man.  His  wife  and  little  ones  were 
torn  from  his  strong  grasp,  and  when  resistance  was  hopeless, 
and  he  turned  from  them,  the  large  muscles  of  his  neck  swelled 
almost  to  bursting,  and  he  set  up  a  desperate  howl,  that  made 
every  heart  quake  or  melt.  Some  one  of  the  throng  around 
him  put  his  boy  into  his  arms ;  the  sight  of  him  changed  the 
current  of  his  feelings  ;  he  soon  became  silent,  and,  a  few  mo- 
ments after,  his  tears  fell  thick  and  heavy  on  the  child.  My 
father  brought  him  home.  He  performed  his  appointed  tasks 
well,  but  he  was  retired  and  sulky ;  and  the  smallest  services 
that  were  imposed  on  his  child  seemed  to  exasperate  his 
spirit.  It  was  not  many  months  after  he  came  into  our  pos- 
session, that  our  overseer,  a  cruel,  worthless  dog,  beat  the  child,. 
who  had  unwarily  offended  him,  unmercifully.  The  father  in- 


48  REDWOOD. 

terposed  and  rescued  the  child,  at  the  expense  of  some  cutting 
lashes  on  his  own  back,  which  he  seemed  to  regard  no  more 
than  the  idle  wind.  The  very  night  after,  the  child  disappear- 
ed, and  it  was  believed  the  unhappy  father  had  put  an  end  to 
the  boy's  life.  The  fact  was  never  ascertained,  though  no  one 
doubted  it ;  for,  as  you  will  readily  believe,  my  father  was  not 
very  zealous  to  establish  a  truth  which  would  have  deprived 
him  of  one  of  his  most  valuable  slaves.  These  circumstances 
transpired  before  I  was  old  enough  to  remember  them ;  but 
when  I  first  heard  the  report  of  them  among  our  domestic  an- 
nals, I  felt  an  involuntary  respect  for  this  man,  who,  with  a 
spirit  more  noble  than  Cato's,  cut  the  cord  that  bound  his  son 
to  captivity,  and  manfully  continued  to  endure  the  galling  of 
his  own  chains.  Was  not  this  a  glorious  illustration  of  the 
truth  of  our  old  favorite  Seneca's  remark,  that  '  sometimes  to 
live  is  magnanimity  ?' 

"  Time  passed  on,  but  Africk  (for  that  was  the  name  my 
father  had  given  him.)  remained  unchanged.  I  think  I  see 
him  now,  going  to  his  daily  task,  always  apart  from  the  herd, 
and  quite  alone ;  his  firm  and  slow  step,  the  curling  of  his  lip, 
which  would  have  better  become  a  monarch  than  a  slave,  and 
his  fixed,  downcast  eye. 

"  His  mind,  which,  like  adamant,  had  resisted  the  influence 
of  time,  was  at  last  subdued  by  fanaticism ;  which,  you  know, 
like  some  chemical  powers,  will  dissolve  substances  that  no  me- 
chanical force  can  impress.  My  father  (a  little  alarmed  himself, 
as  I  suspect,  by  an  eloquent  harangue.)  permitted  a  zealous 
Methodist  or  Moravian.  I  am  not  certain  which,  but  a  member 
of  one  of  these  tribes  of  amiable  madmen,  to  address  his  people. 
A  great  sensation  was  produced,  and  among  the  rest,  Africk 
eagerly  seized  every  opportunity  of  communication  with  the 
preacher.  He  had  never  before  sought  human  communion  or 


REDWOOD.  49 

sympathy.  He  soon  became  a  convert ;  his  fierce  manner  was 
changed  to  gentleness ;  he  no  longer  avoided  his  fellows  ;  and 
though  still  reserved  and  silent,  it  seemed  to  me  that  his  reli- 
gion brought  him  back  to  the  human  family,  and  by  uniting 
him  to  the  common  Father  of  all,  restored  the  broken  links 
of  fraternity. 

"  Whether  his  faith  had  an  enfeebling  influence  on  his  body 
as  well  as  his  mind,  I  know  not ;  but  his  health  fell  into  decay. 
The  overseer  complained  that  he  kept  long  vigils  after  his  daily 
labor  ;  that  he  spent  the  nights,  which  were  made  to  prepare  him 
for  his  labor,  in  prayers  that  exhausted  his  spirits  and  his  strength. 
My  father  inquired  of  Buckley  if  he  had  used  the  whip ;  the  wretch 
replied,  that  he  never  entered  a  complaint  till  that  remedy  had 
failed.  It  did  no  more  good,  he  said,  to  whip  him,  than  to  beat 
the  air  ;  he  bore  it  without  complaint,  and  without  shrinking. 
My  father  then  recommended  an  abatement  of  Africk's  daily 
food. 

"  That,  Buckley  said,  he  had  tried  till  the  rascal  was  so 
weak  he  could  scarcely  stand.  I  was  present  at  this  confer- 
ence, and  my  nature  rebelled  against  the  intolerable  oppres- 
sion the  poor  wretch  was  suffering.  I  interposed,  and  entreated 
my  father  to  adopt  kind  treatment. 

"  He  swore  at  my  boyish  impertinence,  as  he  called  it ;  but 
it  was  not,  however,  without  effect,  for  he  recommended  to 
Buckley  milder  usage.  But  the  fellow's  habits  of  cruelty  were 
too  firmly  fixed  for  any  essential  change.  It  was  not  long 
after,  that  Africk  interposed  to  rescue  a  female  slave  from  the 
horrible  lash  of  this  tyrant :  his  fury,  averted  from  the  woman, 
fell  with  redoubled  violence  on  Africk,  till,  no  longer  stimulat- 
ed by  resistance,  he  turned  away  from  his  silent  victim,  and 
left  him  to  crawl  (for  he  could  not  walk)  to  his  little  cabin. 

The  following  morning  he  was  missing ;    the  plantation  was 
3 


50  REDWOOD. 

searched  in  vain,  and  I  was  dispatched  by  my  father  in  quest 
of  him,  as  he  deemed  it  probable  that  some  of  the  negroes  of 
our  neighbors  might  have  harbored  and  concealed  him  ;  these 
sort  of  courtesies  being  not  unfrequent  among  our  slaves. 

u  I  went,  but  with  the  determination  never  to  reveal,  if  I 
discovered  his  concealment,  and  to  afford  him  every  aid  in  my 
power,  for  my  youthful  imagination  had  been  powerfully  excit- 
ed by  his  heroism  and  his  sufferings,  and  neither  philosophy 
nor  experience  had  yet  steeled  my  heart  against  the  spectacle 
of  human  misery.  Would  to  God  they  never  had ! 

"  I  began  my  expedition  on  foot,  being  just  then  inspired 
with  a  passion  to  emulate  the  feats  of  some  European  pedes- 
trians, of  whom  I  had  heard.  I  cannot  remember  a  period  of 
my  life  when  some  such  whim  did  not  rule  the  hour.  I  had 
entered  on  Mr.  Westall's  grounds,  and  in  order  to  cross  by  a 
straight  line  to  the  cabins  of  the  negroes,  I  left  the  circuitous 
road,  and  turned  into  some  low  ground,  covered  with  pines.  It 
soon  became  marshy,  and  almost  impassable,  but  I  had  pro- 
ceeded too  far  for  retreat  or  extrication,  and  I  continued  to 
push  forward  through  the  snarled  bushes  and  interwoven 
branches  of  the  trees  ;  the  daylight  and  my  strength  were  al- 
most exhausted,  and  my  patience  entirely,  when  I  perceived 
the  ground  harden  to  my  tread,  and  pressing  eagerly  forward,  I 
issued  from  the  wood  into  an  open  space,  a  few  roods  in  circum- 
ference, around  which  the  trees  grew  so  thick,  that  they  formed 
an  almost  impenetrable  wall,  a  natural  defence  for  this  se- 
questered retreat.  To  my  amazement  I  saw  before  me, 
and  just  on  the  skirt  of  the  wood,  a  rudely  constructed  hut ; 
two  of  its  sides  were  formed  by  slabs  resting  on  the 
ground  at  one  end,  meeting  at  the  top.  and  supported  by 
poles  inserted  into  two  notched  posts :  the  third  side  was  filled  . 
by  brush  cut  from  the  adjoining  wood,  and  piled  loosely  to- 


REDWOOD.  51 

gather  ;  the  fourth,  towards  which  I  advanced,  was  quite  open 
to  the  weather. 

"  Alsop,  I  had  proceeded  thus  far  in  my  narrative,  when  I 
threw  down  my  pen  ;  my  fancy  had  restored  me  to  this  scene 
of  my  youth  ;  I  had  insensibly  reverted  to  the  influences  that 
then  governed  my  mind,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  exposing  the  of- 
fices of  the  temple  to  the  derision  of  the  unbeliever.  I  protest 
against  your  laugh,  and  your  more  intolerable  ridicule  ;  I  know 
all  these  things  are  the  illusions  of  youth  and  ignorance,  but 
I  sometimes  think  them  better,  certainly  far  happier,  than  the 
realities  I  have  since  adopted.  Still  vacillating,  you  say,  be- 
tween philosophy  and  superstition  !  amiable  superstition  !  I 
have  described  this  spot  with  some  particularity.  It  is,  with 
all  its  accompaniments,  indelibly  stamped  on  my  memory.  As 
I  said,  I  advanced  towards  the  habitation,  and  unperceived  by 
its  occupants,  I  had  leisure  to  observe  and  to  listen  to  them. 
Africk  was  lying  extended  on  some  straw  with  which  the  ground 
(for  there  was  no  floor)  had  been  strewn  for  this  slight  accommo- 
dation ;  his  head  was  supported  by  an  old  negro  woman ;  with 
one  hand  he  grasped  the  hand  of  my  friend,  with  the  other  he 
held  firmly  a  saphie,  which  was  suspended  around  his  neck ; 
his  short  and  spasmodic  breathing  indicated  the  last  feeble 
struggle  with  death. 

"  Edmund  Westall  knelt  behind  him,  and  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  bright  vision  from  another  and  a  higher  sphere, 
so  beautiful  was  the  combination  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity,  as 
the  enthusiast  paints  them,  in  his  fair  and  innocent  face.  The 
last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  entering  an  aperture  in  the  wall, 
fell  athwart  his  brow,  burnished  his  light  brown  hair,  and  rest- 
ed there,  a  bright  halo,  a  symbol  of  his  celestial  ministry.  My 
ear  caught  the  broken  sentence  of  the  dying  ma.n. 

"  '  No  no,'  he  said,  '  Mr.  Edmund,  I  had  no  peace.    I  would 


52  REDWOOD. 

have  given  my  life  for  one  moment  of  freedom.  I  looked  for 
revenge.  I  thought  of  my  wife  and  my  little  ones ;  and  I 
could  have  poured  out  the  blood  of  white  men,  till  it  were  a 
sea  like  the  big  waters  over  which  they  brought  us.  But  the 
voice  of  God  pierced  to  my  heart,  and  I  was  an  altered  man. 
And  when  I  prayed  that  blessed  prayer,  that  I  might  be  for- 
given even  as  I  forgave  others,  the  fire  in  my  heart  was  quench- 
ed, and  the  terrible  storm  that  had  raged  here  (and  he  pressed 
Edmund's  hand  on  his  naked  breast)  was  laid ;  and  there  was 
peace,  Mr.  Edmund  ;  God's  peace.  I  was  still  a  slave,  aijd  I 
was  wretched,  but  the  sting  was  taken  away.  Do  not  pray  for 
me,  nor  for  mine.  I  have  been  on  my  knees  for  my  helpless 
ones,  night  after  night,  and  all  day  long,  and  my  prayer  ia 
heard.  But  pray  for  your  father's  land,  and  your  father's  chil- 
dren. Pray  to  be  saved  from  the'  curse  that  is  coming.  Oh  ! 
(he  exclaimed,)  and  his  voice  became  stronger,  and  its  deep 
tones  seemed  to  bear  to  our  ears  the  sure  words  of  prophecy ; 
oh,  I  hear  the  cry  of  revenge ;  I  hear  the  wailings  of  your 
wives  and  your  little  ones ;  and  I  see  your  fair  lands  drenched 
with  their  blood.  Pray  to  God  to  save  you  in  that  day,  for  it  will 
surely  come.'  His  voice  was  spent ;  his  eyes  closed,  as  I  be- 
lieved for  ever,  and  I  sprang  towards  the  bed.  I  then  perceiv- 
ed that  it  was  a  momentary  exhaustion  ;  he  still  grasped  Ed- 
mund's hand,  and  I  perceived  that  his  heart  was  still  beating. 
The  old  woman  signed  to  me  to  withdraw  from  before  him  ;  and 
I  silently  took  my  station  beside  her.  After  a  few  moments, 
he  again  languidly  opened  his  eyes  and  said,  in  a  scarcely  audi- 
ble voice,  '  I  thought  I  was  in  my  own  land ;  and  I  heard  the 
rustling  of  our  leaves,  and  the  voices  of  my  kindred,  and  I  was 
feeding  my  little  ones  with  their  kouskous  as  when  the  destroy- 
ers came.  My  spirit  will  pass  easier  if  I  hear  the  voice  of 
your  prayer,  blessed  young  man.  Pray  for  my  master ;  for 


REDWOOD.  53 

Buckley.  He  paused  ;  and  Edmund,  in  a  low  tender  voice  be- 
gan his  supplication.  The  old  woman  muttered,  '  Sorry  Mas- 
sa  prays  for  Buckley  ;  'fraid  God  will  hear  him,  they  say  He  so 
good.'  At  the  close  of  each  petition,  Africk  murmured  Amen  ; 
and  at  Edmund's  fervent  intercession  for  his  oppressors,  he 
opened  his  eyes,  clasped  his  hands,  and  in  the  intensity  of  his 
feeling,  half  rose  from  the  straw.  The  effort  exhausted  him ; 
he  sunk  back  on  the  breast  of  the  old  woman,  and  expired. 
She  released  herself  from  him,  and  then  stretching  her  arms  to- 
wards heaven,  as  if  in  acknowledgment  to  Him  who  had  broken 
the  bonds  of  Africk's  captivity,  she  clapped  her  hands  and 
shouted,  '  he  is  free  !  he  is  free  !'  Edmund  and  I  laid  our  faces 
together  on  the  straw  beside  the  poor  negro,  and  wept  as  youth 
is  wont  to  do. 

"  Forgive  me,  Alsop,  I  have  told  you  a  very  long,  and  it 
may  be  a  very  dull  story,  though  I  think  not ;  for  nothing  is 
dull  to  you  that  is  connected  with  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind.  You  will  ridicule  me  for  ever  having  deemed  of  impor- 
tance the  particulars  of  a  vulgar  being,  extinct  after  a  few 
years  of  life,  and  that  for  the  most  part,  passed  in  abject 
slavery ;  but  like  a  true  philosopher,  you  will  with  me  eagerly 
explore  the  past,  for  the  causes  that  have  influenced  my  char- 
acter and  governed  my  destiny.  •  And  yet,  '  poor  playthings  of 
unpitying  fate.'  why  should  we  be  so -anxious  to  penetrate  the 
mysteries  of  a  being  which  may  cease  for  ever  to-morrow  ?  The 
Epicureans  were  more  consistent  than  we  are ;  and  we  may 
learn  from  the  author  of  a  faith  that  we  deride,  the  truest  wis- 
dom for  us  :  '  let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die.' 

••  This  scene  has  haunted  my  imagination  ;  the  memory  of 
it  has  sometimes  seemed  to  me  like  a  voice  from  Heaven ;  for 
a  long  while  it  kept  alive  a  dying  spark  of  faith.  I  cherished 
it  as  a  testimony,  that  God  had  not  left  the  creatures  he  had 


54  REDWOOD. 

formed  to  wander  without  him  in  the  world  :  I  fancied  there 
was  a  supernatural  ministry  to  the  spirit  of  this  much-injured 
man.  that  had  converted  his  just  and  unrelenting  hatred  to  for- 
giveness— his  pride  to  submissiveness — and  there  seemed  to  me 
intimations  of  the  love  and  mercy  of  the  Divine  Being  in  the 
gentle  and  tender  countenance  of  my  friend. 

"  Yes,  Alsop,  I  confess  it — the  memory  of  this  scene  has 
sometimes  been  an  impassable  barrier  to  your  infidel  and  most 
ingenious  arguments. 

"  You  know  one  of  the  boldest,  as  well  as  most  charming 
of  female  skeptics,  said,  '  in  the  silence  of  the  closet,  or  the 
dryness  of  discussion,  I  can  agree  with  the  atheist  or  the  ma- 
terialist, as  to  the  insolubility  of  certain  questions  ;  but  when 
in  the  country,  or  contemplating  nature,  my  soul,  full  of  emo- 
tion, soars  aloft  to  the  vivifying  principle  that  animates  them, 
to  the  almighty  intellect  that  prevades  them,  and  to  the  good- 
ness that  makes  the  scene  so  delightful  to  my  senses  !'* 

"  Thus  it  is  with  me :  nature,  and  the  beautiful  traits  of 
nature  we  sometimes  see  in  man,  appeal  irresistibly  to  the  feel- 
ings, and  force  their  way  to  my  convictions. 

"  My  purpose  was.  frankly  to  tell  you  my  present  embarrass- 
ments ;  but  I  have  been  led  into  too  serious  a  train  of  feeling 
to  proceed  any  farther,  and  certainly  to  let  you  into  the  arcana 
of  my  present  perplexities. 

"  I  explained  to  Edmund  my  intentions  in  regard  to  Africk. 
We  found  that  we  had  participated  in  a  strong  feeling  of  com- 
passion towards  him.  and  this  sympathy  at  once  created  a  bond 
of  union  between  us.  This  hiding-place  had  been  contrived 
by  Westall's  people  for  a  refuge  for  the  runaways  from  the 
neighboring  plantations ;  not  at  all  for  their  own  benefit, 

*  Madame  Roland. 


REDWOOD  55 

for  the  conduct  of  the  Westalls  to  their  slaves  was  noted 
for  its  bouuv  jlent  and  paternal  character.  The  retreat  was 
kept  secret  from  Mr.  Westall  (the  father) ;  for  the  negroes 
rig  ally  concluded  that  he  would  have  been  compelled  in  honor 
to  surrender,  as  the  property  of  his  neighbors,  the  refugees 
who  took  shelter  there.  The  son  had  been  conducted  to  the 
place  by  the  old  woman,  who  was  his  nurse,  who  knew  she 
might  safely  confide  the  secret  to  his  custody,  and  who  could 
not  believe  that  any  case  was  so  desperate  that  he  could  not 
bring  some  alleviation  to  it.  We  agreed  that  Africk's  body 
should  be  conveyed  during  the  night  to  the  cabin  of  one  of  the 
negroes,  and  should  in  the  morning  be  restored  to  my  father. 

"  Before  we  parted  from  the  remains  of  the  released  slave, 
we  examined  the  saphie,  which  to  his  last  breath,  he  had  so 
pertinaciously  grasped.  You  must  know  these  saphies  are 
boxes  made  of  horn,  shell,  or  some  other  durable  material ; 
they  contain  some  charm,  usually  a  sentence  from  the  Koran, 
which  serves  as  an  amulet  to  keep  off  evil  spirits.  Africk  had 
changed  the  object  of  his  superstition,  and  the  infidel  charm 
had  been  expelled  to  give  place  to  the  following  sentence,  writ- 
ten at  his  request  by  Westall  :  '  Forgive  me  my  trespasses, 
even  as  I  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  me.' 

"  At  Edmund's  instigation,  I  made  this  the  occasion  of  ben- 
efit to  the  other  negroes.  I  applied  to  my  father  in  their  be- 
half, and  found  my  way  to  his  understanding  by  the  sure  and 
well-trodden  path  of  selfishness.  I  convinced  him  that  Buck- 
ley's cruelty  had  shortened  Africk's  life,  and  that  the  tyrant's 
harsh  treatment  of  the  slaves  prevented  half  the  profit  that 
might  otherwise  be  derived  from  their  labor.  My  father,  exas- 
perated by  his  recent  loss,  readily  yielded  to  my  arguments. 
Buckley  was  dismissed,  and  an  efficient  and  tolerably  humane 
overseer  employed  in  his  place.  I  possessed  then,  Alsop,  some 


56  REDWOOD. 

enthusiasm  in  the  cause  of  benevolence,  and  could  have  envied", 
and  possibly  might  have  emulated  the  fame  of  a  Howard.  But 
notwithstanding  this  strange  confession,  you  need  not  now  de- 
spair of  your  disciple  and  friend.  H.  REDWOOD." 

This  epistle  very  naturally  excited  some  alarm  in  Alsop  for 
the  security  of  his  dominion  over  the  mind  of  his  young  disci- 
ple. He  wrote  to  him  repeatedly,  and  received  but  few,  and 
those  brief  replies,  till  about  the  expiration  of  a  year,  when  an- 
answer  to  an  earnest  solicitation  to  Redwood  to  accompany 
him  to  Europe,  whither  he  was  going  in  a  public  service,  and 
to  his  setting  forth  in  the  most  tempting  manner,  the  advanta- 
ges that  he  offered,  he  received  the  following  letter : 

"  DEAR  ALSOP, 

"  I  am  grateful  for  your  interest,  and  convinced  by  your  ar- 
guments that  I  ought  no  longer  to  doze  away  my  brief  existence 
in  this  retirement.  I  have  obtained  my  father's  consent  to  the 
arrangement  you  propose;  and  what  is  still  more  indispensable, 
an  ample  supply,  in  consideration  of  a  promise  I  have  given  to 
him,  that  I  will  solicit  the  hand  of  my  cousin  immediately  after 
my  return. 

"  Alsop,  I  find  it  necessary  to  recollect  all  the  arguments 
in  favor  of  virtue  and  vice  being  only  conventional  terms,  arti- 
ficial contrivances  for  man's  convenience ;  for  conscience,  con- 
science, that  blushing,  shamefaced  spirit  that  mutinies  in  a 
man's  bosom,  tells  me  that  if  it  is  not  so  I  am  the  veriest  wretch, 
alive.  I  am  married  to  a  young  creature,  without  fortune, 
without  connections ;  innocent,  and  beautiful,  and  religious  ;  an 
odd  union,  is  it  not  ?  I  have  not  intimated  my  free  opinions 
to  her,  for  why  should  I  disturb  her  superstition  ?  It  is  quite 
becoming  to  a  woman,  harmonizes  well  with  the  weakness  of 


REDWOOD.  57 

her  sex.  and  is  perhaps  necessary  to  it.  No  one  but  the  priest 
(and  he  is  tvustworthy)  knows  our  secret.  My  pride,  my  am- 
bition, rebel  against  the  humble  condition  of  life  to  which  this 
rash  indulgence  of  boyish  passion  condemns  me.  If  my  father 
knew  it,  he  would  spurn  me ;  for  my  marriage  disappoints  his 
favorite  project,  and  my  poor  girl  would  provoke  his  most 
inveterate  prejudices;  and  my  mother,  my  timid  mother,  would 
never  forgive  me  for  presuming  to  offend  my  father :  there  is 
no  tolerable  alternative ;  the  fact  must  be  concealed  for  the 
present.  Who  knows  but  one  of  the  tides,  which,  '  taken  at 
the  flood  lead  on  to  fortune,'  may  await  me  ?  any  thing  is  bet- 
ter than  to  lose  this  bright  opportunity  of  pleasure  and  advan- 
tage. Poor  Westall  is  dead,  and  died  with  unbroken  confi- 
dence in  me.  Is  goodness  always  thus  credulous  ?  He  has 
committed  his  only  son,  a  boy  of  four  years,  to  my  guardian- 
ship. I  will  not  betray  his  trust,  so  help  me  God. 

«  Yours,  &c.     H.  K." 

Redwood  had  determined  'to  keep  his  intended  departure  a 
secret,  to  save  himself  from  the  remonstrances  and  entreaties 
which  he  naturally  expected  from  his  abused  wife.  He  had 
no  intention  permanently  to  desert  her ;  she  was  residing  in 
the  family  of  a  Mr.  Emlyn,  as  teacher  to  his  children,  and 
might  remain  there  for  one,  or  even  two  years,  if  necessary; 
and  in  the  meantime,  an  unforeseen  accession  of  fortune,  politi- 
cal advancement,  or  any  of  the  thousand,  chances  that  happen 
to  fortune's  favorites,  might  relieve  her  husband  from  his  pre- 
sent embarrassments,  and  enable  him  to  invest  her  with  her 
rights,  without  too  great  a  personal  sacrifice.  By  such  and 
similar  considerations  he  endeavored  to  soothe  his  conscience 
into  acquiescence  •  but  neither  those,  nor  the  sophistries  of  his 

friend,  availed  him  to  silence  the  voice  of  nature  within  him, 
3* 


58  REDWOOD. 

that  incessantly  reproached  him  with  the  wrong  he  was  about 
to  inflict  on  a  yonng.  and  innocent,  and  helpless  being. 

On  the  night  before  his  departure,  he  summoned  resolu- 
tion to  visit  her,  intending  to  impart  to  her  his  designs,  and 
to  soothe  her  with  such  promises  and  arguments  as  he  could 
marshal  to  his  aid.  He  found  her  alone  in  the  little  parlor 
which  had  been  kindly  assigned  to  her.  She  started  at  his 
entrance,  and  was  hurrying  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  she  was 
writing,  into  the  desk  at  which  she  sat.  "  Treason,  treason," 
said  he,  detaining  the  paper,  and  at  the  same  time  kissing  her 
pale. cheek.  "  Then  it  is  treason  against  my  own  heart,"  she 
replied ;  for  that  is  but  too  faithful  to  you."  Redwood  was 
conscience-stricken,  and  to  shelter  his  embarrassment,  he 
affected  to  read  the  letter  he  had  seized :  it  was  blotted  with 
his  wife's  tears.  "  No,  do  not  read  it,"  said  she,  laying  her 
hand  on  it,  "  it  is  only  a  little  scolding ;  you  know  I  have  so 
few  of  the  privileges  of  a  wife,  that  I  cannot  but  use  those  that 
are  not  denied  me."  Redwood's  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  the 
letter,  of  which,  however,  he  had  not  read  a  single  word.  She 
continued,  "  I  am  so  lonely,  that  I  get  low-spirited,  and  some- 
times I  think  you  do  not  love  me." 

"  Not  love  you,  Mary  ?"  exclaimed  Redwood,  in  whose 
breast  there  was  not  at  this  moment  any  feeling  so  strong  as 
his  tenderness  for  the  lovely  being  before  him. 

"  Yes,  Henry,"  she  replied,  with  more  courage  than  she 
had  ever  before  shown,  "  and  have  I  not  much  reason  to  think 
so?  I  am  sure  I  could  not  make  any  one  suffer  as  you  make  me  ; 
I  could  not  live  and  let  such  a  curse  rest  upon  your  blessings." 
"  A  curse.  Mary,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  replied  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  is  it  not  a  curse,"  said  she,  "  to  feel  the  misery  of 
guilt  and  the  punishment  of  folly  ;  to  be  suspected  of  crime ; 
to  feel  the  blood  freezing  in  my  veins,  from  the  fear  of  detec- 


REDWOOD.  59 

tion ;  to  see,  or  fancy  that  I  see,  the  smiles  of  derision  and 
contempt  on  the  faces  of  the  very  slaves  of  the  plantation,  as  I 
pass  by  them ;  and  to  blush  and  feel  humbled,  when,  at 
the  mention  of  your  name,  my  eye  meets  the  stolen  glances 
of  the  children  ?  Oh,  Henry,  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  cannot 
bear  such  suspicions ;  I  am  a  wife,  and  I  ought  not  to  bear 
them." 

Kedwood  was  aifected  by  his  wife's  appeal ;  but  there  was 
in  it  an  assertion  of  rights  that  mortified  his  pride,  and  sur- 
prised him ;  surprised  him,  because  Mary  had  always  showed 
herself  a  timid  being,  with  unquestioning  dependence  on  his 
will,  and  submissive  conformity  to  his  wishes.  He  defended 
himself  as  well  as  he  was  able :  he  pleaded  his  dependence  on. 
his  father — his  dread  to  excite  his  tyrannical  passions;  he 
reminded  her  that  she  had  consented  to  their  clandestine  mar- 
riage and  intercourse. 

"  But,"  she  replied,  "  I  was  young  and  inexperienced,  and 
quite  alone ;  and  I  thought,  Henry,  you  could  not  ask  me  to 
do  any  thing  it  was  not  right  to  do  ;  and  you  promised,  before 
God,  to  love  and  cherish  me,  and  I  was  quite  sure  I  never 
should  suffer  any  evil  that  you  could  shield  me  from." 

"  And  you  shall  not,  Mary,"  he  replied ;  "  only  have  a  little 
patience." 

"  Ah,  Henry,  patience  is  the  resource  of  the  miserable ;  and 
I,"  she  added,  turning  on  him  a  look  full  of  the  confiding  spirit 
of  affection,  "  I  ought  not  to  be  miserable." 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?"  said  he  impatiently. 

"  Withhold  no  longer  the  name  to  which  you  have  given 
me  a  right;  save  me  from  cruel  suspicions  and  remarks,  and  I 
will  endure  silently  and  patiently  any  other  evil;  I  will  live 
.-•cpiirate  from  you,  if  your  father  requires  it,  or  you  wish  it; 
I  will  never  see  you  again ;  any  thing  will  be  better  than  to 


60  KEDWOOD. 

endure  the  torment  of  shame,  for  from  this  torment  the  con 
sciousness  of  innocence  has  not  preserved  me." 

Redwood  felt  the  justice  of  his  wife's  plea,  and  he  might 
have  yielded  to  the  best  impulses  of  his  nature,  but  he  thought 
he  had  gone  too  far  with  Alsop  to  recede ;  he  mentally  resolved 
to  shorten  his  absence  as  much  as  possible,  and  to  return  to- 
make  his  wife  happy.  Having  appeased  his  conscience  by  this 
compromise,  he  appealed  to  her  compassion ;  he  represented, 
with  tenfold  aggravation,  the  embarrassments  in  which  he  was 
involved,  and  he  soothed  her  with  professions  of  tenderness. 
Gentle  and  affectionate,  she  soon  relapsed  into  trustful  acqui- 
escence ;  and,  with  a  self-devotion  not  singular  in  a  woman,  she 
resolved  and  promised  to  abide  his  pleasure.  Before  they 
parted,  there  was  an  allusion  made  to  a  flirtation  Redwood  had 
had  with  his  cousin,  Maria  Manning,  and  to  some  tender  let- 
ters she  had  written  to  him  since  his  marriage,  to  win  him 
back  from  what  she  supposed  to  be  his  indifference.  These- 
letters  had  frequently  been  the  subject  of  raillery  between  the 
lovers.  Mary  had  never  seen  them;  and  Redwood,  in  no- 
humor  now  to  deny  any  thing  which  he  could  grant  without 
too  great  a  sacrifice,  promised  he  would  send  her  the  letters 
the  next  morning.  He  then  parted  from  her,  but  not  without 
betraying  real  anguish,  which  his  tender-hearted  wife  blamed 
herself  for  having  inflicted  on  him. 

The  next  morning  a  packet  was  brought  to  her.  It  con- 
tained a  brief  farewell  from  her  husband,  the  most  plausible 
apology  he  could  frame  for  his  departure,  and  a  sum  of  money 
larger  than  he  could  well  afford  to  spare  from  the  allowance  he 
had  received  from  his  father,  but  by  which,  as  he  said,  he  meant 
to  enable  her  to  withdraw  (if  she  should  prefer  to-  do  so  during 
his  absence)  from  the  situation  she  then  held.  In  the  hurry 
of  his  departure,  Redwood  had  sent,  instead  of  the  promised 


REDWOOD.  61 

packet,  his  correspondence  with  Alsop.  What  a  revelation  it 
contained  for  this  deserted  wife !  She  had  reposed  in  him  the 
unqualified  and  unsuspecting  confidence  of  youth  ;  she  had 
believed  him  to  be  just  what  he  seemed — the  natural  conclu- 
sion of  inexperience.  How  terrible  are  the  reverses  of  opinion, 
when  those  most  tenderly  loved  are  the  subjects  of  them !  It 
seemed  to  Mary  Redwood,  that  she  had  fallen  into  an  abyss  of 
hopeless  misery.  She  read  over  and  over  again  these  fatal 
letters,  till  her  head  turned,  and  her  heart  sunk  with  the 
strange  confusion  of  horrible  ideas  which  they  communicated. 
The  language  of  the  world,  of  philosophy  (falsely  so  called),  of 
infidelity,  was  an  unknown  tongue  to  her;  a  strange  jargon, 
which  introduced  into  her  mind  but  one  definite  idea,  and  that 
a  deep  conviction  that  her  husband  was  corrupt,  more  corrupt 
in  principle  than  in  conduct ;  and  his  conduct  the  natural  and 
necessary  result  of  his  principles.  Ignorant  as  she  was  of  the 
world,  and  all  its  intolerance  and  artificial  distinctions,  she  had 
never  dreamed  that  her  lowly  fortune  and  rank  opposed  a  bar- 
rier to  her  acknowledgment. 

The  love  of  women  is  sometimes  ranked  with  incurable  dis- 
eases. Mary  Redwood's,  at  least,  was  not  so;  perhaps  her 
husband  seemed  to  her  to  lose  his  identity  from  the  moment 
that  she  discovered  his  real  sentiments  ;  however  that  may  be, 
the  discovery  cut  the  cord  that  bound  her  to  him ;  and  the 
repose  and  happiness  of  trustful  affection,  and  feminine  depend- 
ence, and  the  confidence  of  youthful  expectation,  gave  place  to 
deep  despondency,  and  to  all  the  apathy  of  complete  alienation. 
It  was  impossible  for  her  to  conceal  a  change  so  suddenly 
wrought  in  her  feelings,  and  the  good  people  with  whom  she 
w;i.s  living  believed  young- Redwood's  departure  for  Europe  to 
be  the  cause  of  it. 

They  had  for  a  long  time  been  apprised  of  his  secret  visits. 


62  REDWOOD. 

and  suspicious  of  his  designs :  but  the  purity  and  gentleness 
of  Mary's  manners  rebuked  suspicion,  and  they  hesitated  to 
communicate  their  observations  to  her :  besides,  they  were  en- 
gaged with  their  own  concerns,  and  the  transient  love  affair 
(as  they  deemed  it)  of  an  obscure  young  girl,  seemed  to  them 
of  no  great  moment.  They  felt  some  regret,  when,  after  the 
lapse  of  a  few  days,  she  announced  her  wish  to  relinquish  the 
care  of  their  children,  assigning  as  a  reason  the  evident  decline 
of  her  health,  and  she  did  not  leave  them  without  generous 
tokens  of  their  gratitude  for  her  fidelity.  At  the  time  of  her 
departure,  her  friend,  Mrs.  Westall,  was  absent  on  a  visit  to  a 
distant  plantation ;  this  she  esteemed  fortunate,  for  she  wished 
to  escape  any  observation  that  would  have  been  stimulated  by 
affection. 

She  resolved  never  to  reveal  the  secret  of  her  marriage ; 
and  thanking  G-od  that  her  parents  were  removed  from  this 
world,  and  that  none  remained  to  be  deeply  affected  with  her 
misfortunes,  she  determined  to  seek  out  some  retreat  where 
she  might  be  sheltered  from  notice.  As  the  carriage  drove 
away  that  conveyed  her  from  the  door  of  Mr.  Emlyn, 
Mrs.  Emlyn  turned  from  the  window  where  she  had  stood 
gazing  after  her,  and  said  to  her  husband,  "  is  it  not  strange 
that  Mary  should  not  have  felt  more  at  parting  with  the 
children?  she  did  not  seem  to  notice  their  caresses,  and 
poor  things,  they  cried  as  if  their  little  hearts  would 
break;  she  is  kind-hearted  too."  "And  did  not  you  'mind, 
^mother,"  asked  one  of  the  little  girls,  "  that  when  I  offered 
that  pretty  shell  box  Mr.  Redwood  gave  me  for  a  keepsake, 
she  shivered  as  if  she  had  the  ague,  and  dropped  it  on  the 
floor?" 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Emlyn,  looking  significantly  at  his  wife. 
"  it  is  easy  enough  to  see  where  the  shoe  pinches.  I  tell  you, 


REDWOOD.  63 

my  dear,  that  fellow  has  nearly  broken  the  girl's  heart.  It  is 
just  so  with  all  your  tribe ;  'all  for  love,  or  the  world  well  lost.' 
But  she  will  come  to  her  senses.  '  Sur  les  ailes  du  temps  la 
tristesse  s'envole.' " 


64  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

X 

"  Si  un  homme  honnete  avoit  fait  un  mal  irreparable  a  un  6tre  inno- 
et-nt,  comment,  sans  le  secours  de  1'expiation  religeuse,  s'en  consolerait-il 
jamais." — MAD.  DE  STAEL. 

REDWOOD  joined  his  friend,  and  they  embarked  together 
for  Europe,  furnished  with  every  facility  for  an  introduction  to 
good  society  which  Americans  could  then  procure.  They  visit- 
ed Paris,  and  gained  admission  to  its  highest  literary  circles : 
to  society  the  most  dangerous,  and  the  most  captivating,  men 
and  women,  who,  from  having  been  born  thralls  to  the  despotic 
dogmas  and  pompous  ritual  of  the  Romish  church,  had  identi- 
fied the  corruptions  of  Christianity  with  its  truth,  and  reject- 
ing the  galling  yoke,  had  loosened  all  necessary  and  salutary 
restraints.  There  was  in  them  much  to  be  admired  by  a  vir- 
tuous person,  much  to  excite  the  sympathy  of  the  representa- 
tive of  a  young  republic,  for  they  had  an  unaffected  zeal  for 
the  happiness  of  their  species,  and  a  genuine  hatred  of  every 
mode  of  tyranny.  They  had,  too,  an  amenity  and  exquisite 
refinement  of  manners,  which  they  had  owed  to  the  vital  spirit 
that  Christianity  had  infused  into  civilized  life,  and  which  re- 
mained after  the  spirit  had  departed ;  as  the  body,  from  which 
the  soul  has  fled,  retains,  while  life  is  still  recent,  its  fair  pro- 
portions, and  beautiful  expression  ;  or.  as  the  plant  which  the 
passing  gale  has  uprooted,  is  still  decorated  with  the  flowers 


REDWOOD.  65 

that  owed  their  birth  to  the  parent  earth.  In  these  circles, 
Redwood's  devotion  to  intellectual  power  (the  ruling  passion  of 
his  youth)  revived,  and  he  resigned  himself  to  the  charms  of 
society,  to  those  pleasures  which  one  who  was  their  victim,  has, 
with  a  few  vivid  touches,  described  "  la  parole  n'y  est  pas  seu- 
leinent  comme  ailleurs  un  moyen  de  se  communiquev  ses  idees, 
ses  sentiments,  et  ses  affaires  mais  c'est  un  instrument  dont  on 
airne  a  jouer  et  qui  ranime  les  esprits,  comme  la  musique  chez 
quelque  peuples,  et  les  liqueurs  fortes  chez  quelquer  autres."* 
And  in  these  circles.  Redwood  felt  that  Paris  "  etait  le  lieu  du 
monde  ou  1'on  pouvoit  le  mieux  se  passer  de  bonheur."f 

While  he  remained  in  the  French  capital,  there  was  no  sus- 
pension of  excitement,  not  an  hour  for  reflection,  scarcely  a 
solitary  moment  for  the  impertinent  whispering  of  conscience. 
His  wife,  the  young  and  innocent  creature  who  had  surrendered 
to  him  the  whole  treasure  of  her  affections,  abandoned,  solitary, 
sick,  and  heart-broken,  was  scarcely  remembered,  or  if  remem- 
bered, was  associated  with  the  dark  cloud  with  which  she  had 
shaded  his  future  fortunes.  But  after  he  had  left  Paris,  in  the 
further  prosecution  of  his  travels,  there  were  times  when  she 
was  remembered ;  the  powers  of  conscience,  spell-bound  by  the 
noise  and  glare  of  society,  were  awakened  by  the  voice  of  the 
Divinity  issuing  from  the  eloquent  places  of  nature.  The  pure 
streams,  the  placid  lakes,  the  green  hills,  and  the  "  fixed  moun- 
tains looking  -tranquillity,"  seemed  to  reproach  him  with  his 
desertion  of  nature's  fairer  work ;  for  all  the  works  of  nature 

*  Conversation  is  not  there,  as  elsewhere,  simply  a  medium  for  the  com- 
munication of  ideas  and  sentiments,  and  the  transaction  of  business  ;  but 
it  is  an  instrument  on  which  they  delight  to  play,  and  which  excites  their 
spirits,  like  music  among  some  nations,  and  strong  liquors  among  others. 

t  Paris  was  that  place  in  the  whole  world  where  one  might  best  dis- 
pense with  happiness. 


66  REDWOOD. 

are  linked  together  by  an  invisible,  an  "  electric  chain."  Red- 
wood hurried  from  place  to  place  ;  he  tried  the  power  of  novelty, 
of  activity ;  he  gazed  on  those  objects  that  have  been  the  mar- 
vel, and  the  delight  of  the  world ;  and  when  the  first  excite- 
ment was  over,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  resist  the  great  moral 
law  which  has  indissolubly  joined  virtue  and  happiness. 

On  his  arrival  at  Rome  he  found  letters  awaiting  him  there. 
To  avoid  the  hazard  of  discovery,  he  had  determined  that  all 
intercourse  between  himself  and  his  wife  should  be  suspended 
during  his  absence,  and  had  purposely  omitted  to  furnish  her 
with  his  address — his  anxiety  to  receive  some  intelligence  from 
her  had,  however,  become  so  strong,  that  he  would  now  have 
willingly  incurred  any  risk  for  that  gratification.  On  turning 
over  his  letters,  he  noticed  one  in  a  handwriting  which  he  recog- 
nized to  be  that  of  the  clergyman  who  had  married  him  to 
Mary  Erwine ;  he  hastily  tore  it  open.  There  was  within  it  a 
letter  from  his  wife,  and  a  few  lines  from  the  clergyman  stated 
that  he  had  received  that  letter  inclosed  in  another,  and  post- 
marked Philadelphia :  he  was  requested  to  forward  it  by  the 
first  conveyance,  and  to  inform  him  to  whom  it  was  addressed, 
that  the  writer  had  died  two  days  after  closing  the  letter. 

Alsop  entered  Redwood's  apartment  a  moment  after  he  had 
read  the  letter,  and  while  he  was  yet  nearly  stunned  by  the 
sudden  blow :  Alsop  looked  at  the  unsealed  letter  which  had 
fallen  on  the  floor,  and  then  took  the  open  one  from  the  unre- 
sisting hand  of  his  friend,  who,  while  he  hid  his  convulsed  face 
in  his  hands,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I  have  killed  her,  Alsop — I  have 
killed  her !" 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Alsop,  comprehending  at  a  glance  the 
import  of  the  intelligence,  ':  nature  sentenced  her ;  you  may 
have  hastened  the  execution— but  that's  all.  What  do  you 
mean  by  this  drivelling,  Redwood  ?  '  II  faut  finir  !'  The  sen- 


REDWOOD.  67 

tence  is  passed  on  all  mankind,  but  it  is  not  often  one's  luck  to 
have  the  sentence  executed  at  the  fortunate  moment  for  one's 
self  and  one's  friends  too  !" 

There  was  an  audacity  in  this  levity,  which  quickened  to 
keen  resentment  the  awakened  feelings  of  Redwood.    He  spurn- 
ed Alsop  from  him,  and  resigned  himself  to  the  tide  of  misery 
that  overwhelmed  his  fortitude.     As  soon  as  he  could  command 
sufficient  courage,  he  opened  his  wife's  letter — it  was  cold  and 
brief,  without  a  request  or  reproach  ;  and  simply  informed  him 
that  after  his  departure  she  had  sought  a  retirement  where  she 
might  prepare  herself  for  that  better  world,  towards  which  her 
heavenly  Father  in  his  tender  mercy  was  evidently  leading  her  : 
she  had  found  one ;  and  had  received  under  the  humble  roof 
where  she  should  soon  close  her  eyes  for  ever,  every  kindness 
that  humanity  could  render.     Should  any  regrets  induce  Red- 
wood to  make  any  inquiries  about  her,  she  informed  him  they 
would  be  vain  and  useless — vain,  for  she  had  taken  every  precau- 
tion to  keep  the  place  of  her  retreat  secret — and  useless,  for 
she  should  then  be  where  no  human  being  could  confer  happi- 
ness, or  inflict  misery  on  her.      Some  portions  of   the  letter 
betrayed  strong  emotions,  but  apparently  it  did  not  result  from 
the  relations  which  had  subsisted  between  herself  and  him  to 
whom  she  wrote.     It  was  an   elevated  state  of   feeling  with 
which  no  personal  considerations  seemed  to  mingle,  in  which 
she  regarded  what  had  passed,  not  as  offences  against  herself, 
but  as  portending  misery  to  Redwood.     The  letter  concluded 
thus — "  you  will  not,"  she  said,  "  need  the  assurance  of  my 
forgiveness  ;  believe  me  I  have  no  sterner  feeling  than  pity  for 
you.     I  have  sought,  and  till  my  heart  is  stilled  in  death,  I 
shall  seek  for  you  his  mercy  who  came  to  heal  the  sick,  to  seek 
the  lost,  and  to  restore  the  wanderer.     Farewell,  Redwood, 
God  grant  the  prayer  of  your  dying  wife." 


68  REDWOOD. 

'  And  is  this  all,'  thought  Redwood, '  that  remains  to  me  of 
the  tenderness  of  youthful  love ;  of  that  innocent,  generous 
affection,  that  questioned  not,  suspected  not  1  oh,  I  have  most 
foully  betrayed  her  tr^ust !  we  are  severed  for  ever — yes,  for 
ever — for  surely,  if  there  is  a  heaven,  she  has  entered  it :  and 
I — I  have  no  place — no  hope  there.  I  could  have  borne  re- 
proaches, invectives,  any  thing  I  could  have  borne  better  than 
this  calm  tone  which  pronounces  the  sentence  of  death — eter- 
nal death  to  our  union.' 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  keener  suffering  to  a  generous  mind, 
than  the  consciousness  of  having  inflicted  a  wrong  which  can- 
not be  repaired.  Redwood's  first  hasty  resolution  was  to  make 
the  poor  amends  in  his  power,  to  return  to  his  country,  pro- 
claim his  marriage  with  Mary  Erwine,  and  endure  the  infamy 
his  desertion  deserved.  No  sacrifice  appeared  to  him  too  great 
to  appease  the  clamors  of  his  conscience,  no  self-mortification 
too  severe,  if  he  might  thereby  pay  a  tribute  to  her  memory, 
whose  life  he  had  embittered,  and  cut  off  in  its  early  prime. 

But  after  the  first  access  of  grief  and  contrition  gave  place 
to  calm  and  natural  considerations,  he  saw.  that  however  just 
might  be  this  conduct,  still  it  must  be  quite  useless  to  the 
injured  being  whom  he  could  no  longer  serve  nor  harm.  She 
was  an  orphan,  without  any  near  connections  to  inquire  after, 
or  to  be  afllicted  by  her  destiny :  why  then  should  he  publish 
his  Own  infamy,  which  could  never  be  mitigated  in  the  eye  of 
the  world  by  the  knowledge  of  the  virtuous  intention  and 
severe  remorse,  which,  as  Redwood  hoped,  in  some  measure 
softened  its  deepest  coloring  ?  These  were  certainly  natural 
considerations  ;  and  though  every  one  must  wish  that  Redwood 
had  followed  the  simple  dictate  of  right,  no  one  who  knows  how 
very  cogent  arguments  appear  on  that  side  to  which  the  incli- 
nations lean,  will  be  surprised  that  his  virtuous  resolutions 


REDWOOD.  69 

should  have  died  away,  and  his  good  emotions  have  subsided ; 
but  they  did  not  subside  without  permanent  effects.  The  wave 
retreated,  but  its  ravages  remained ;  and  Henry  Redwood  car- 
ried through  life  a  fast-rooted  misery,  a  sense  of  injustice  reck- 
lessly committed ;  a  feeling  of  degradation  that  led  him  to  turn 
from  all  that  is  fair  and  good,  as  a  sick  eye  shuts  out  the  light 
of  heaven. 

Redwood  avoided  the  poisonous  society  of  Alsop.  He  left 
Rome  after  wandering  for  a  little  time  about  its  magnificent 
ruins  ;  the  melancholy  tone  of  his  mind  suiting  well  with  their 
gloomy  grandeur.  From  Italy  he  repaired  to  England,  and 
after  rambling  over  our  parent  land,  and  admiring  without  en- 
joying its  beauties,  he  returned  to  his  native  country. 

Quite  indifferent  to  his  own  domestic  fate,  he  yielded  a 
ready  compliance  to  the  importunate  wishes  of  his  father  and 
mother,  and  solicited  and  easily  obtained  the  hand  of  his  cou- 
sin, Maria  Manning,  a  spoiled  child  and  nattered  beauty.  Her 
girlish  preference  of  her  handsome  cousin  had  been  stimulated 
by  the  difficulty  of  achieving  the  conquest  of  his  affections ; 
and  if  her  vanity  had  been  piqued  by  his  long  apparent  indif- 
ference and  protracted  absence,  it  was  quite  soothed  by  the 
professedly  unqualified  admiration  of  one  who  had  gazed  on 
foreign  beauties,  and  had  been  received  with  favor  in  the  cir- 
cles of  rank  and  fashion  in  countries  more  polished  than  our 
own.  The  ceremony  of  Redwood's  marriage  was  celebrated 
with  all  due  pomp  and  circumstance.  A  troop  of  gratified 
friends  attended  him  to  the  altar,  whither  he  led  his  beautiful 
bride,  the  idol  of  fashion  and  the  favorite  of  fortune :  one  per- 
son alone  in  all  the  assembly  rightly  interpreted  his  faltering 
voice,  restless  movements,  and  changing  color,  and  the  fixed 
gaze  that  proved  his  thoughts  intent  on  the  visions  of  his 
imagination.  It  was  the  same  church  to  which  at  twilight  and 


70  REDWOOD. 

in  secrecy  he  had  led  the  trustful  girl,  whose  artless  tender- 
ness, simple  and  spiritual  beauty,  and  unsuspecting  confidence, 
haunted  him  at  this  moment.  The  same  clergyman  officiated 
who  had  then  recorded  his  plighted  faith.  Neither  the  dogmas 
of  a  selfish  philosophy,  nor  the  training  of  the  world,  had  indu- 
rated Redwood's  heart.  At  the  moment  the  service  concluded, 
he  staggered  from  the  side  of  his  bride,  and  caught  hold  of  the 
railing  around  the  altar.  The  clergyman  whispered,  "  you 
betray  yourself,  Mr.  Redwood."  His  father,  oustling  up  to 
him,  called  him,  in  the  same  breath,  "  a  lucky  dog  and  an  odd 
fish ;"  and  his  young  friends,  crowding  around  him,  mingled 
with  their  congratulations  well-timed  raillery  of  his  timidity. 
Recovering  his  self-possession,  he  parried  their  attacks  skil- 
ftuly,  and  apologized  to  his  wife  with  the  adroit  courtesy  of  a 
well-bred  man ;  and  she,  with  the  happy  facility  of  habitual 
vanity,  not  knowing  what  his  emotion  meant,  believed  it  meant 
something  flattering  to  herself. 

Redwood  now  entered  on  the  career  of  politics.  His  wife 
was  the  bright  cynosure  of  the  fashionable  world ;  and  both 
were  the  envy  of  those  who  form  their  childish  judgments  by 
externals,  forgetting  that  the  most  brilliant  hues  are  reflected 
by  empty  vapors.  Mrs.  Redwood  survived  her  marriage  but 
a  few  years,  and  left  at  her  death  one  child,  Caroline,  whom 
she  consigned  to  her  mother.  The  child  was  accordingly  trans- 
ferred to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Manning,  and  conveyed  to  Charles- 
ton, South  Carolina,  the  residence  of  that  lady,  who  evinced  her 
grief  for  the  death  of  her  daughter,  by  lavishing  on  the  child  a 
twofold  measure  of  the  indulgencies  and  flatteries  that  had 
spoiled  the  mother. 

Mrs.  Manning's  notions  of  education  were  not  peculiar.  In 
her  view,  the  few  accomplishments  quite  indispensable  to  a 
young  lady,  were  dancing,  music,  and  French.  To  attain  them, 


REDWOOD.  71 

she  used  all  the  arts  of  persuasion  and  bribery :  she  procured 
a  French  governess,  who  was  a  monument  of  patience ;  she 
employed  a  succession  of  teachers,  that  much  enduring  order, 
who  bore  with  all  long-suffering  the  young  lady's  indolence, 
caprices,  and  tyranny.  At  the  age  of  seven,  the  grandmother's 
vanity  no  longer  brooking  delay,  the  child  was  produced  at 
balls  and  routes,  where  her  singular  beauty  attracted  every 
eye,  and  her  dexterous,  graceful  management  of  her  little  per- 
son, already  disciplined  to  the  rules  of  Vestris,  failed  forth 
loud  applauses.  The  child  and  grandmother  were  alike  bewil- 
dered with  the  incense  that  was  offered  to  the  infant  belle,  and 
future  heiress ;  and  alike  unconscious  of  the  sidelong  looks  of 
contempt  and  whispered  sneers  which  their  pride  and  folly 
provoked.  At  fourteen,  Miss  Redwood,  according  to  the 
universal  phrase  to  express  the  debut  of  a  young  lady,  was 
"  brought  out,"  that  is,  entered  the  lists  as  a  candidate  for  the 
admiration  of  fashion,  and  the  pretensions  of  lovers.  At  eigh- 
teen, the  period  which  has  been  selected  to  introduce  her  to 
our  readers,  she  was  the  idol  of  the  fashionable  world,  and  as 
completely  mistress  of  all  its  arts  and  mysteries,  as  a  veteran 
belle  of  five  and  twenty. 

Mr.  Redwood  had  received  the  noblest  gifts  of  his  Creator  : 
a  mind  that  naturally  aspired  to  heaven,  and  sensibilities  that 
inclined  him  to  all  that  was  pure,  and  good,  and  lovely.  The 
worldly  advantages  he  possessed  would  have  been  the  means 
of  happiness  to  a  vulgar,  or  even  ah  ordinary  character ;  but 
they  had  no  control  over  a  spirit  that  could  not  endure  to  be 
limited  to  the  objects  of  selfish  gratification,  to  bound  its  de- 
sires and  pursuits  within  the  earthly  prison-house.  After  a 
few  years,  he  wearied  of  the  toil  and  strife  of  political  life, 
resigned  its  honors,  and  embarked  for  Europe,  from  whence, 
after  having  worn  out  two  or  three  years  in  a  vain  effort  to 


72  REDWOOD. 

escape  from  that  misery  which  has  neither  parallel  nor  cure, 
the  misery  of  remorse,  and  the  demons  of  restlessness  and 
ennui,  he  returned  to  his  own  country  to  seek  happiness,  where 
none  but  the  good  find  it,  at  Jiome.  He  was  surprised  with 
the  ripened  beauty  of  his  daughter,  but  most  severely  morti- 
fied to  find  her  just  what  he  ought  to  have  expected  from  the 
influences  to  which  he  had  abandoned  her.  He  never  felt  so 
strong  an  affection  for  the  child  as  would  seem  to  have  been 
natural.  His  indifference  to  her  mother,  the  circumstances 
that  preceded  his  marriage,  and  perhaps  the  child's  resem- 
blance to  the  parent,  accounted  in  part  for  this  want  of  affec- 
tion ;  and  the  carelessness  that  was  the  result  of  it  was  to  be 
expected  from  one  governed  more  by  circumstances  than  prin- 
ciple. 

Mr.  Redwood  hoped  it  was  not  too  late  to  repair  his  fault. 
He  perceived  that  his  daughter  possessed  spirit  and  talents  not 
quite  extinguished  by  her  mode  of  education  and  life ;  and  for 
the  purpose  of  breaking  off  all  unfavorable  associations,  and 
removing  her  from  the  influence  of  her  doting  grandmother, 
he  resolved  on  a  tour  through  the  northern  states. 

Mr.  Redwood  hoped,  too,  that  this  jaunt  might  lead  to  the 
accomplishment  of  a  project  which  he  had  long  secretly  cher- 
ished ;  a  union  between  his  daughter  and  Charles  Westall.  the 
son  of  his  earliest  friend.  He  had  transferred  to  the  son  the 
strong  affection  he  bore  to  his  father ;  and  though  he  had  not 
seen  him  since  his  childhood,  he  had  from  report,  and  from  an 
occasional  correspondence,  conceived  the  highest  opinion  of  his 
character.  Time  and  philosophy  had  failed  to  subdue  Mr. 
Redwood's  ardent  temperament :  he  still  pressed  on  with  eager- 
ness to  the  accomplishment  of  his  wishes,  flattering  himself  all 
the  while  that  he  had  ceased  to  be  the  dupe  of  the  promises 
which  the  future  makes  to  the  inexperienced  and  the  hopeful. 


REDWOOD.  73 

Mr.  Redwood  and  his  daughter  had  made  the  fashionable 
tour,  that  is  to  say,  had  visited  the  lakes,  Niagara,  and  the 
Canadas,  and  had  turned  their  course  towards  Boston,  when 
the  unfortunate  accident  which  has  been  mentioned  put  a  stop 
to  their  progress,  and  deposited  them  for  awhile  at  the  house 
of  a  respectable  New-England  farmer. 


74  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  She  came — she  is  gone — we  have  met — 
And  meet,  perhaps,  never  again." — COWPER. 

As  the  day  closed,  on  which  Mr.  Kedwood's  journey  had  been 
so  suddenly  suspended,  the  full-orbed  moon  rose  above  the 
summit  of  the  highest  hills  that  border  the  eastern  shore  of 
Champlain.  Not  a  vestige  of  the  storm  remained,  not  a  cloud 
-stained  the  clear  vault  of  heaven,  and  the  scene  looked  the 
more  beautiful  as  contrasted  with  its  recent  turbulence.  The 
vapor  was  condensed  on  the  low  grounds,  and  instead  of  impe- 
ding the  rays  of  the  "  bright  queen  of  heaven,"  looked  as  if  she 
had  sheltered  some  favorite  spots  with  a  silvery  mantle ;  and 
the  broad  lake,  glad  to  be  relieved  from  the  stern  shadows  that 
shrouded  it,  smiled  and  dimpled  in  the  rich  flood  of  light  that 
fell  on  its  bosom,  and  reflected  in  its  clear  mirror  the  pasture- 
hills,  covered  with  social  herds,  that  descended  to  its  margin ; 
and  the  water-loving  willow,  the  chestnut  with  its  horizontal 
branches  and  pendent  blossoms,  and  the  little  trig-birch  that 
shadowed  its  brim.  The  location  of  the  farm-houses  planted 
here  and  there  on  the  surrounding  hills  was  marked  by  the  tall 
Lombardy  poplar,  which  through  our  country  towns  is  every 
where  the  sign  of  a  habitation.  The  moonbeams  played  on  the 
white  dwelling  of  Mr.  Lenox,  which  had  an  air  of  prosperity 


REDWOOD.  75 

and  refinement  above  any  of  its  neighbors,  from  the  ample, 
well-fenced  fblds  around  it,  a  colony  of  barns  behind  it,  and  a 
neat  little  court-yard  containing  peach  and  cherry  trees,  and 
rose-bvtshes,  and  vines  skilfully  guided  around  the  windows, 
and  all  inclosed  by  a  curiously-wrought  fence,  on  which  the 
village  architect  had  exhausted  all  the  cunning  of  his  art, 
Mr.  Lenox's  family  had  retired  to  their  several  apartments, 
excepting  those  who  were  appointed  to  keep  their  vigils  with 
the  sick  stranger.  He  had  complained  of  the  closeness  of  the 
air,  and  Deborah  had  opened  doors  that  communicated  by  a 
narrow  passage  with  another  apartment.  She  had  then  sta- 
tioned herself  near  the  door,  where,  after  a  few  moments,  her 
loud  breathing  announced  that  she  was  in  a  profound  sleep. 
Mr.  Redwood  observed  a  female  sitting  in  the  passage  and 
obscured  by  its  shadows,  who  seemed  to  be  stationed  there  to 
act  as  a  prompter  to  Deborah,  for  whenever  he  was  restless, 
she  awoke  the  sleeper.  In  the  opposite  room  he  perceived  the 
.body  of  the  young  man  he  had  heard  spoken  of;  the  head  was 
placed  directly  under  a  window,  through  which  the  full-moon 
shone  so  brightly  that  every  object  was  almost  as  distinctly  seen, 
as  by  the  light  of  day.  At  another  time,  or  in  health,  Mr. 
Redwood  would  have  been  quite  unmoved  by  such  a  spectacle, 
for  death  has  no  heart-stirring  associations  to  him  who  deems 
that  the  "  spirit  shall  vanish  into  soft  air,  and  we  shall  be  here- 
after as  though  we  had  never  been,"  but  there  are  few  minds 
that  are  independent  of  the  condition  of  the  animal ;  and  Mr. 
Redwood,  weakened  by  his  sufferings,  and  his  imagination 
stimulated  by  a  large  dose  of  laudanum  that  had  excited  in- 
stead of  composing  him,  felt  himself  yielding  to  the  power  of 
busy  and  bitter  fancies.  The  light,  graceful  figure  of  the 
young  female,  as  she  gently  moved  to  awaken  the  amazon, 
seemed  to  touch  some  secret  spring  of  his  imagination,  and  once, 


76  REDWOOU. 

as  he  fell  into  a  dreamy  state,  the  wife  of  his  youth  was  near 
him,  but  cold  and  silent  as  the  dead  form  he  had  just  closed 
his  eyes  upon ;  and  when  he  started  and  awoke  and  saw  the 
young  female  standing  like  a  statue  in  the  doorway,  he  identi- 
fied her  with  his  vision,  and  exclaimed,  "  for  God's  sake,  speak 
to  me."  Deborah  was  awakened  by  the  sound,  and  her  coarse 
voice  inquiring  what  he  wanted,  restored  him  at  once  to  reali- 
ties. She  gave  him  at  his  request  a  composing  draught,  and 
again  resumed  her  station,  and  saying  she  believed  she  had 
been  almost  asleep,  she  resumed  instantly  her  harsh  nasal 
sounds ;  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
save  the  falling  of  the  swollen  drops  of  water  as  they  rolled 
from  leaf  to  leaf  on  the  branches  of  the  trees  about  the 
window 

By  degrees  Mr.  Redwood  became  composed,  and  was  just 
yielding  himself  to  nature's  best  medicine,  when  his  attention 
was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  light  footsteps  approaching  the 
house.  He  heard  the  latch  of  an  outer  door  gently  raised, 
(for  here  fastenings  were  considered  a  superfluity.)  and  a  young- 
girl  glided  into  the  opposite  room.  Mr.  Redwood  saw  that  she 
passed,  observed,  but  not  molested,  by  his  attendant.  His- 
attention  was  now  thoroughly  excited.  She  lingered  for  a 
moment,  apparently  from  irresolution  or  timidity,  and  then 
throwing  aside  a  shawl  in  which  she  had  muffled  herself, 
she  knelt  beside  the  body  of  the  young  man,  and  removing 
the  covering  from  his  face,  she  gazed  intently  upon  it :  the 
light  fell  on  her  own,  still  beautiful,  though  distorted  and 
almost  convulsed  with  the  tumult  of  her  feelings.  After  re- 
maining for  a  few  moments  motionless,  she  laid  her  burning 
forehead  on  the  cold  breast  of  the  young  man,  and  sobbed  pas- 
sionately. The  young  lady,  who  had  been  a  passive  spectator 
of  the  poor  girl's  involuntary  grief,  now  advanced  to  shut  the 


REDWOOD  77 

door,  apparently  with  the  purpose  of  sheltering  her  from  the 
observation  of  the  stranger,  but  he,  perceiving  her  intention, 
and  unable  to  repress  his  curiosity,  called  to  entreat  her  to 
permit  it  to  remain  open.  The  loud  sobs  of  the  girl  awakened 
the  grandmother  of  the  deceased,  who,  reluctant  to  separate 
herself  for  a  moment  from  the  body  of  her  grandson,  had  in- 
sisted on  performing  herself  the  customary  duty  of  watching 
with  the  dead ;  but  overcome  with  her  grief  and  infirmities, 
she  had  fallen  asleep.  She  recognized  immediately  in  the 
afflicted  girl,  the  object  of  her  child's  youthful  and  constant 
affections  ;  whose  girlish  coquetries  and  caprices  had  been  the 
first  cause  of  that  "  inward  disease,"  which  Deborah  had  pro- 
nounced the  occasion  of  his  death.  She  advanced  to  her  with 
trembling  steps,  and  laying  her  hand  on  the  girl's  head,  and 
stroking  back  her  beautiful  hair,  "  poor,  silly  child,"  she  said, 
in  a  pitiful  tone,  "  you  have  come  too  late :  once  his  heart 
would  have  leaped  at  a  word  from  you,  but  he  does  not  hear 
you  now.  He  loved  you,  Annie,  and  for  that  I  cannot  help 
loving  you ;"  and  she  stooped  and  kissed  the  girl,  who  was 
awed  into  silence  by  her  unexpected  appearance,  and  her  calm 
tone.  "  A  grief  have  you  been  to  him,  Annie  ;  but  the  Lord 
changed  his  mourning  into  joy ;  for  when  friend  and  lover  for- 
sook him,  then  he  turned  to  the  sure  friend.  Oh,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  he  was  my  last  earthly  hope,  the  staff  of  my  age ;  he 
was  good,  always  good,  but — "  and  the  tears  poured  down  her 
pale,  wrinkled  face,  "  but  it  was  his  adversities  that  made  him 
wise  unto  salvation.  Sorrow  upon  sorrow,  cloud  upon  cloud, 
and  he  from  the  first  such  a  feeling  creature."  Mrs.  Allen's 
lamentation  was  interrupted  by  the  hysterical  sobbings  of  the 
penitent  girl.  "  My  poor  child,"  she  said,  in  a  compassionate 
tone,  "  do  not  break  your  heart ;  sore  mourning  is  it  indeed  for 
a  wrong  done  to  the  dead,  but  it  was  not  you,  Annie,  that 


78  REDWOOD. 

killed  him  ;  no,  that  was  just  the  beginning  of  it ;  then  came 
his  parents'  losses,  his  father's  death,  and  his  mother's ;  but 
all  these  were  dust  on  the  balance,  time  to  eternity,  compared 
with  the  backsliding  of  Emily ;  his  root  withered  when  this 
branch  was  lopped  off.  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  how  often  have  I 
heard  you  say  you  would  die  for  her  if  thereby  you  could  bring 
her  back  from  her  idolatry."  Here  the  aged  mourner  was 
again  interrupted,  and  all  were  startled  by  the  rumbling  of  an 
approaching  wagon ;  the  young  lady,  quick  as  thought,  flew  to 
the  window.  "  They  are  here,'r  she'  exclaimed,  and  then  turn- 
ing to  the  old  woman,  "  I  entreat  you,  dear,  dear  Mrs.  Allen," 
she  said,  "  to  leave  the  room ;  indeed  you  are  not  able  to  see 
them  to-night." 

"  Oh,  Ellen,  I  care  not  for  myself,  say  not  a  word ;  this  may 
be  the  Lord's  set  time  to  call  home  the  wanderer ;  I  will  not 
shrink  from  the  trial ;  if  it  was  my  last  breath,  I  would  spend 
it  in  setting  her  sin  before  her." 

"  But  not  now,  Mrs.  Allen,  surely  not  now  ;  this  is  not  the 
time  to  harrow  up  the  poor  girl's  feelings ;  consider  for  one 
moment  she  has  yet  to  learn  Edward's  death ;  she  is  exhausted 
with  her  journey  ;  spare  her,  spare  yourself  to-night." 

"  Ellen,  you  know  not  what  you  ask,"  replied  the  old  wo- 
man, who  seemed  to  gather  strength  and  energy  to  obey  what 
she  regarded  as  a  call  of  duty.  "  Are  we  not,"  she  asked,  "  to 
pluck  out  the  right  eye,  to  pluck  off  the  right  arm,  if  thereby 
we  may  save  the  soul  ?  Ellen,  I  will  speak  to  her ;  and  if  she 
is  not  dead  to  natural  affection,  that  pale,  still  face  will  send  my 
words  home  to  her  heart." 

In  vain  Ellen  argued  and  entreated.  Mrs.  Allen  seemed 
persuaded,  or  as  she  expressed  herself,  she  felt  that  now,  if 
ever,  was  the  set  time  for  the  deliverance  of  the  child  from  cap- 
tivity. 


REDWOOD.  79 

Debby  roused  at  the  near  approach  of  the  wagon,  and  again 
said,  "  she  did  not  know  but  she  had  been  dozing  ;"  and  listen- 
ing to  the  bustle  in  the  opposite  apartment,  "  what  does  all  this 
mean  ?"  said  she ;  "  I  thought  Ellen  was  fit  to  be  trusted ;  is 
there  no  discretion  in  a  young  head  ?" 

Mr.  Redwood  assured  her,  that  the  young  lady  had  not 
failed  in  her  duty  in  the  least ;  that  the  door  had  been  contin- 
ued open  at  his  request.  "  Oh,  well,  well,  it  is  all  very  well :  it 
is  a  good  rule  never  to  cross  the  sick  in  their  notions."  While 
making  this  sage  observation,  she  advanced  to  the  window. 
"  For  the  land's  sake,"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  has  tempted  Su- 
san Allen  to  come  with  Emily  !  It  will  go  nigh  to  break  the 
old  woman's  heart  to  see  her.  Ah,  there  will  be  no  good  come 
of  it,  for  there  is  that  old  grim  master-devil,  brother  Reuben." 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Redwood,  "  who 
is  Emily  ?  and  who  is  Susan  ?  am  I  dreaming,  or  what  does  it 
all  mean  ?" 

"  No,  man,  you  are  not  dreaming,  but  I  guess  in  your  right 
mind.  Emily  Allen  is  a  young  girl,  twin-sister  to  Eddy  there 
in  the  other  room ;  she  has  been  befooled  by  the  shaking  Qua- 
kers, at  least  by  her  Aunt  Susan,  that  has  been  one  these  thirty 
years ;  and  Susan  is  a  half  crazy  woman  and  half  a  saint ;  and 
there  is  the  old  woman  that  is  mother  to  Susan  and  grandmother 
to  Emily,  that  is  taking  on  about  them  as  if  they  were  sold  to 
the  evil  one.  But,  sir,  we  are  disobeying  Doctor  Bristol's 
orders,  and  that  an't  honoring  the  physician  with  the  honor  that 
is  due  to  him ;"  and  thus  concluding,  she  proceeded  to  close 
the  door  that  led  through  the  passage.  Mr.  Redwood  had  been 
beguiled  of  the  tedious,  sleepless  hours,  by  the  curious  spec- 
tacle of  natural  feeling,  undisguised  by  any  of  the  artificial 
modes  of  society,  and  he  was  now  determined  to  see  the  new 
characters  that  were  entering  on  the  scene.  He  entreated  Deb- 


80  REDWOOD. 

orah  to  permit  the  door  to  remain  open,  and  she,  after  examin- 
ing his  pulse,  and  looking  at  his  eye  to  detect  any  incipient 
wildness,  decided  that  it  would  not  be  indiscreet  to  gratify 
him. 

To  convey  to  our  readers  a  clear  idea  of  this  scene,  we 
shall  describe  it  as  it  really  occurred,  and  not  as  it  appeared  to 
Mr.  Redwood,  who  by  the  dim  light,  and  at  the  distance  he  was 
laid  from  the  parties,  was  compelled  to  be  satisfied  with  a  \  ery 
imperfect  observation. 

Ellen  opened  the  outer  door  for  the  two  females,  who  en- 
tered dressed  in  the  Shaker  uniform,  only  remarkable  for  its 
severe  simplicity  and  elaborate  neatness.  Both  wore  striped 
blue  and  white  cotton  gowns,  with  square  muslin  handkerchiefs 
pinned  formally  over  the  bosom,  their  hair  combed  back,  and 
covered  with  muslin  caps  with  straight  borders,  and  white  as 
the  driven  snow ;  and  over  the  cap  a  white  silk  bonnet  of  the  fash- 
ion common  to  the  Friends.  Susan,  the  elder,  was  between 
forty  and  fifty  years  of  age  :  she  was  tall  and  erect :  and  though 
rather  slender  in  proportion  to  her  height,  well  formed.  There 
was  an  expression  of  command  in  all  her  movements  that  seem- 
ed natural  to  her,  and  sat  gracefully  upon  her.  Her  face  had 
the  same  character  of  habitual  independence  and  native  dignity : 
the  hues  of  youth  had  faded,  but  a  connoisseur  would  have 
pronounced  her  at  a  single  glance  to  have  been  handsome.  Her 
features  were  large,  and  all  finely  formed  ;  her  eye,  there,  where 
"  the  spirit  has  its  throne  of  light,"  beamed  with  intelligence 
and  tenderness.  It  was  softened  by  a  rich  dark  eyelash,  and 
of  that  equivocal  hue,  between  gray  and  hazel,  which  seems 
best  adapted  to  show  every  change  of  feeling;  but  vain  is  this 
description  of  color  and  shape.  It  was  the  expression  of  strong 
and  rebuked  passions,  of  tender  and  repressed  affections,  of 
disciplined  serenity,  and  a  soft  melancholy,  that  seemed  like 


KEDWOOD.  81 

the  shadow  of  past  sufferings,  which  altogether  constituted  the 
power  and  interest  of  her  remarkable  face. 

The  younger  female  was  short  and  slightly  formed.  Her 
features  were  small ;  her  blue  eyes,  light  hair,  and  fair  com- 
plexion, would  have  rendered  her  face  insipid,  but  that  it  was 
rescued  by  an  expression  of  purity  and  innocence,  and  a  cer- 
tain appealing  tender  look,  that  suited  well  her  quiet  and  ami- 
able character. 

As  they  entered,  Ellen  threw  her  arms  around  the  younger 
sister,  exclaiming  in  a  tone  of  the  tenderest  concern,  "  dear 
Emily,  why  did  you  not  come  sooner?"  Emily  trembled  like 
an  aspen  leaf,  and  her  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  have  leapt  from 
her  bosom,  but  she  made  no  reply.  The  elder  sister  grasped 
Ellen's  hand,  "  Is  it  even  so  ?"  she  said :  she  rightly  interpret- 
ed Ellen's  silence  and  sadness  :  "  I  foresaw,"  she  continued, 
"  that  our  coming  would  be  worse  than  in  vain  :"  then  turning 
to  her  young  companion,  she  said,  "  put  thy  hand  on  thy  mouth 
and  be  still,  my  child.  The  Mighty  One  hath  done  it  ;  strive 
not  against  Him,  for  he  giveth  not  account  of  any  of  his  mat- 
ters." 

A  loud  groan  was  heard  in  the  apartment  of  the  dead. 
Susan  Allen  started,  and  exclaimed,  "  Is  my  mother  here  ?  then, 
mother  Anne  be  with  me  !"  She  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
added  in  a  calm  tone,  "  fear  not,  Emily,  my  child,  in  your  weak- 
ness strength  shall  be  made  perfect ;  we  shall  not  be  left  with- 
out the  testimony."  Her  words  -were  quick,  and  her  voice 
raised,  as  if  she  felt  that  she  was  contending  against  rebellious 
nature.  She  entered  the  room  with  a  slow  and  firm  step.  Em- 
ily followed  her,  but  it  seemed  not  without  faltering,  for  Ellen 
had  passed  her  arm  around  her,  and  appeared  to  sustain  half 
her  weight.  Her  face  was  as  pale  as  marble,  and  as  still. 

"  Pray  speak  to  them,  Mrs.  Allen,"  whispered  Ellen.   •'  Yes, 
4* 


82  REDWOOD. 

speak  to  them,"  said  Debby,  in  a  voice  of  authority ;  "  what  sig- 
nifies it !  they  are  your  own  children,  and  there  is  no  denying  it/' 

"  They  were  my  ohildren,  but  they  have  gone  out  from  me, 
and  are  not  of  me,"  replied  the  old  woman,  in  a  voice  scarcely 
audible.  "  I  am  alone ;  they  are  uprooted ;  I  am  as  an  old 
oak,  whose  leaf  has  withered ;  judgment  has  come  out  against 
me." 

"  She  is  going  clean  distracted,"  whispered  Debby  to  Ellen, 
"  you  can  do  any  thing  with  her ;  make  her  hear  to  reason  while 
she  has  any  left,  and  get  her  to  go  out  of  the  room  with  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  old  woman,  who  had  overheard  Deb- 
by's  whisper,  "  have  no  fear  for  me ;  my  spirits  are  a  little 
fluttered,  and  my  soul  is  in  travail  for  these  wanderers,  to  get 
them  back  to  my  rest,  and  under  my  wing ;  but  the  Lord's  own 
peace  is  in  my  heart,  and  none  can  trouble  that.  Oh,"  she 
continued,  bursting  into  tears,  as  she  turned  her  eyes  from 
Emily  to  fix  them  on  Susan,  "  was  it  not  enough  that  you  were 
led  captive  by  Satan,  enough  for  you  to  put  on  his  livery,  but 
you  must  tempt  this  child  to  follow  you  in  your  idolatries  ?" 
Strong  sensibility  is  perhaps  never  extinguished  ;  but  Susan's 
was  so  subdued,  that,  obedient  to  the  motion  of  her  will,  it  had 
soon  returned  to  flow  in  its  customary  channels.  She  replied 
to  her  mother's  appeal  in  her  usual  deliberate  manner.  "  The 
child  is  not  my  captive,  mother,  she  has  obeyed  the  gospel," 
and,  added  she,  looking  at  Emily  with  affectionate  complacency, 
"  she  has  already  travelled  very  far  Cut  of  an  evil  nature,  and 
the  believers  are  looking  to  see  her  stand  in  the  foremost  light, 
so  clear  is  the  testimony  of  her  life  against  all  sin."  Susan 
had  an  habitual  influence  over  Emily  ;  she  felt  that  she  com- 
manded the  springs  that  governed  the  mind  of  her  timid  dis- 
ciple. Emily  felt  it  too,  and  was  glad  to  be  saved  from  the 
efforts  of  self-dependence.  She  approached  Susan,  who  had 


REDWOOD.  83 

seated  herself  by  the  bedside,  when  her  grandmother  took  her 
by  the  hand,  and  drawing  her  towards  her,  she  said,  in  a  voice 
scarcely  audible,  for  sorrow,  infirmity,  and  despair  almost  de- 
prived her  of  utterance.  "  Oh,  Emily,  my  child,  my  only  child, 
has  she  bewitched  you  ?"  She  drew  the  unresisting  girl  to- 
wards the  body  of  her  brother, — "  there,  look  on  him,  Emily, 
though  dead,  he  yet  speaketh  to  you,  and  if  nature  is  not  quite 
dead  in  you,  you  will  hear  him ;  he  calls  to  you  to  break  to  pie- 
ces your  idols,  and  to  come  out  from  the  abominations  of  the 
land  whither  ye  have  been  carried  away  captive."  Emily  sigh- 
ed heavily  and  wept,  but  said  nothing.  Susan  moved  to  the 
other  side  of  her,  and  seeming  to  lose  the  spirit  of  controversy 
in  some  gentle  remembrance,  she  said,  "  Edward  was  a  good 
youth,  and  lived  up  to  the  light  he  had.  There  is  one  point 
where  all  roads  meet ;  one  thing  certain,  mother,"  she  added, 
tin  intelligent  smile  brightening  her  fine  face,  "  we  shall  all  be 
judged  according  to  the  light  we  have :  some  have  a  small,  and 
some  a  great  privilege." 

"  She  has  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  for  once,"  whispered 
Debby  to  Ellen  :  "  and  now,  Ellen,  before  they  get  into  ano- 
ther snarl,  do  separate  thern.':  - 

Ellen's  heart  was  full ;  she  felt  for  all  the  parties  a  very 
tender,  and  an  almost  equal  interest ;  and  though  she  would 
have  rejoiced  in  Emily's  renunciation  of  her  errors,  she  did  not 
probably  regard  the  sincere  adoption  of  them  with  the  terror 
and  despair  which  the  grandmother  felt. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  she  said,  gently  taking  the  hands  of 
the  mother  and  daughter,  and  joining  them,  "  there  is  that 
in  the  face  of  your  good  Edward  that  bears  an  admonition 
to  all  our  hearts,  and  teaches  us  all  to  remember  how  often 
•\vt'  ;u\:  commanded  to  love  one  another,  and  to  be  at  peace 
one  with  another.  It  was  the  beloved  apostle  who  said, 


84  REDWOOD. 

'He  that  doeth  good  is  of  God:'  may  not  then  those  who 
try  to  do  his  will,  leave  the  rest  to  his  mercy  ?"  There  was  the 
eagerness  and  the  authority  of  truth  and  goodness  in  Ellen's 
voice,  and  manner,  and  words ;  the  spirit  of  love  and  of  recon- 
ciliation; and  the  troubled  waters  would  have  been  laid  at 
rest,  for  the  raised  eye  of  the  old  lady  showed  that  true  devo- 
tion was  working  at  her  heart ;  and  Susan  looked  on  her 
acquiescingly  and  approvingly ;  and  Emily's  face  shone  with 
an  expression  of  gratitude  that  her  lips  could  not  utter :  but 
at  this  moment  the  outer  door  again  opened,  and  Reuben  Har- 
rington, that  one  of  "  the  brethren"  whom  Debby  had  charac- 
terized as  the  "  master-devil,"  entered. 

He  seemed  to  have  arrived  at  that  age,  which  the  poet  has 
characterized  as  the  period  of  self-indulgence ;  and,  certainly, 
he  bore  no  marks  of  having  disobeyed  the  instincts  of  nature 
by  any  mortifications  of  the  flesh.  He  was  of  a  middling  sta- 
ture, inclining  to  corpulency ;  with  a  sanguine  complexion,  a 
low  forehead  deeply  shaded  with  bushy  black  hair,  that  abso- 
lutely refused  to  conform  to  the  sleekness  of  his  order ;  a  keen- 
gray  eye,  which  had  a  peculiarly  cunning  expression  from  a 
trick  he  had  early  acquired,  and  of  which  he  could  never  rid 
himself,  of  tipping  a  knowing  wink ;  a  short  thick  nose  turning 
upward ;  a  wide  mouth,  with  the  corners  sanctimoniously 
drawn  down,  and  a  prominent,  fat  chin,  following  the  direction 
of  his  nose.  In  short,  he  presented  a  combination  and  a  form 
to  awaken  the  suspicions  of  the  most  credulous,  and  to  confirm 
the  strongest  prejudices  against  a  fraternity  that  would  ad- 
vance such  a  brother  to  its  highest  honors — or,  to  use  their 
own  phrase,  to  the  '  lead.'  Reuben  advanced  to  the  bedside 
quite  unceremoniously,  and  seemed  to  survey  the  dead  and  the 
living  with  as  much  indifference  as  if  he  did  not  belong  to 
their  species.  No  one  spoke  to  him,  nor  did  he  speak,  till  his 


REDWOOD.  85 

attention  was  arrested  by  poor  Annie,  who  had  shrunk  away 
from  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  sat  on  a  low  chair  at  its  foot 
enveloped  in  her  shawl,  and  sobbing  aloud,  apparently  uncon- 
scious that  any  one  saw  or  heard  her.  "  Who  is  that  young 
woman,"  inquired  Harrington  of  Debby,  "  that  is  making  such 
an  unseemly  ado ;  is  she  kin  to  the  youth  ?" 

"  No  !"  uttered  in  her  harshest  voice,  was  all  the  reply 
Debby  vouchsafed. 

"  Some  tie  of  a  carnal  nature,  ha  ?"  pursued  Harrington. 
"  No  such  thing,"  said  Debby,  "  Eddy  was  her  sweetheart." 

"  Yea,  yea,  that  is  just  what  I  meant,  woman.  Well,"  he 
continued,  with  a  long-drawn  guttural  grean,  "  the  children  of 
this  world  must  bake  as  they  have  brewed ;  they  are  in  the 
transgression,  and  they  must  drink  the  bitter  draught  their 
own  folly  has  mixed."  After  this  consolatory  harangue,  he 
turned  from  the  bedside  and  began,  not  humming,  but  shout- 
ing with  the  utmost  power  of  his  voice,  a  Shaker  tune,  at  all 
times  sufficiently  dissonant,  and  that  now,  in  this  apartment  of 
death  and  sorrow,  sounded  like  the  howl  of  an  infernal :  to  this 
music  he  shuffled  and  whirled  in  the  manner  which  his  sect 
call  dancing  and  '  labor  worship.' 

"  Stop  your  dum  powwow !"  cried  Debby,  seizing  him  by 
the  arm  with  a  force  that  might  have  made  a  stouter  heart 
than  Keuben's  rejoice  in  the  protection  of  the  convenient  prin- 
ciple of  non-resistance. 

"  Nay,  ye  world's  woman,  let  me  alone,"  said  he.  extricating 
himself  from  her  grasp,  and  composing  his  neckcloth,  which 
Deborah's  rough  handling  had  somewhat  ruffled ;  "  know  me 
for  a  pure,  and  peaceable  man,  that  cannot  bide  the  touch  of 
woman,  and  will  not  war  with  earthly  powers." 

"  True,"  replied  Debby,  "  your  war  is  with  heavenly  pow- 
ers ;  but  while  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  spare  the  strength  of  my 


86  REDWOOD. 

right  arm,  I'll  keep  you  peaceable.  Peaceable,  indeed  !  one 
would  have  thought  all  bedlam  had  been  let  loose  on  us — 
peaceable !  your  yells  almost  scared  the  old  lady's  soul  out  of 
her  body.'' 

Poor  Mrs.  Allen,  to  whom  Reuben's  singing  had  sounded 
like  a  shout  of  victory  from  the  infernal  host,  now  really  seem- 
ed in  danger  of  such  a  catastrophe.  She  could  scarcely  raise 
her  heavy  eyelids,  and  the  low  moaning  tounds  that  escaped 
her  betrayed  the  infirmity  of  age,  and  the  grief  that  words  can- 
not express.  Ellen  renewed  her  entreaties  that  she  would 
retire  to  her  own  room.  No  longer  capable  of  resistance,  she 
silently  acquiesced,  aad  Ellen  conducted  her  to  her  bed,  and 
watched  over  her,  till  she  perceived  that  her  wearied  nature 
had  sunk  to  repose.  She  then  left  her,  and  was  softly  closing 
the  door,  when  she  met  Debby  in  the  passage.  "  Now,  child," 
said  Deborah,  "  it  is  time  that  for  once  you  should  think  a 
little  of  yourself ;  go  to  bed  and  take  a  good  sleep ;  there  is  no 
occasion  for  your  going  back  to  that  room  ;  it  is  quiet  enough 
there  now ;  poor  little  Annie  stole  away  when  nobody  saw  her, 
and  I  got  the  old  man  out,  and  gave  him  some  victuals,  and  he 
is  making  a  hearty  meal — peaceable  enough,  now." 

"  Where  are  Susan  and  Emily  ?"  inquired  Ellen,  "  they 
must  need  rest  more  than  I  do." 

"  Yes,  poor  souls,  they  need  it  enough,  but  they  will  not 
take  it ;  they  are  only  waiting  for  Reuben  to  go  away  again." 

"  Away — before  the  funeral !" 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  Susan  has  the  right  of  it :  she  says  'the 
dead  need  them  not,  and  they  are  no  comfort  to  the  living.' 
To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I  suspect 
.she  is  afraid  to  trust  Emily  here  any  longer.  You  know  she 
and  our  James  always  had  a  notion  for  each  other,  and  I  guess 
Snsau  has  found  it  out  too ;  for  though  she  is  not  much  used  to 


REDWOOD.  87 

the  world,  she  is  a  cute  woman  by  natur',  and  sees  as  far  into 
a  millstone  as  a'most  any  body.  I  marked  her  looking  at 
Emily  when  James  came  into  the  room,  for  you  must  know 
he  came  in  just  after  yon  went  out,  and  Emily's  face  that 
was  as  white  as  curds  before,  turned  red  to  the  very  roots 
of  her  hair ;  and  when  James  offered  her  his  hand,  she 
did  not  take  it  to  be  sure,  for  that  is  quite  contrary  to  all 
Shaker  rules  and  regulations ;  but  she  did  not  look  the  least 
affronted." 

"  I  cannot  think,"  said  Ellen,  shaking  her  head  doubtfully, 
"  that  Emily  has  any  attachment  to  James.  If  she  had,  why 
did  she  join  the  Shakers?"  "Why!  ah,  that's  more  than  I 
can  tell.  It  passes  the  skill  of  a  rational  creature  to  give  the 
whys  and  the  wherefores  of  the  motions  of  you  young  girls.  I 
would  as  soon  undertake  to  give  a  reason  for  the  shiftings  of 
the  wind.  But  I  am  as  sure  that  Emily  Allen  would  rather 
stay  with  James,  than  to  go  back  to  the  Shakers,  as  that  I  know 
a  southerly  breeze  from  a  northwester."  "  But,  Miss  Deborah," 
asked  Ellen,  apparently  still  incredulous,  "was  there  any 
thing  said  to  warrant  your  conclusion  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal  was  said,  but  very  low,  and  I  scarcely 
heard  any  thing.  But  I  did,  however,  hear  James  say,  '  Oh, 
Emily,  how  can  you  bear  to  think  of  all  poor  Edward  felt  for 
you,  and  of  your  old  grandmother,  for  it  will  certainly  kill  her, 
and  go  back  again  to  those  people  V  mind  you,  he  did  not  say 
a  word  about  himself,  but  he  looked  enough,  and  I  am  sure 
Emily  understood  him,  for  girls  are  quick  enough  at  taking 
such  ideas,  and  I  saw  the  tears  gush  from  her  eyes,  and  she  said, 
'  It  is  a  great  cross,  James,  but  I  must  take  it  up.'  Susan  saw 
as  much  as  I  did,  for  she  seemed  as  uneasy  as  a  bird  when  a 
boy  is  robbing  her  nest.  And  she  got  up  and  told  Emily,  in 
her  calm  way,  to  go  with  her  to  the  kitchen  fire.  And  Emily 


88  REDWOOD 

followed  her,  and  she  will  follow  her  home,  though  with  a 
heavy  heart  in  her  bosom." 

"  But,"  said  Ellen,  "  Emily  shall  not  go  against  her  incli- 
nation." 

"  Ah,  there  is  the  rub,"  replied  Debby;  "  Susan  has  that  in 
her,  that  she  can  make  people  of  a  mind  to  do  what  they  would 
hate  to  do  for  any  body  else.  I  don't  know  what  it  is ;  she  is 
not  a  stern  woman,  but  it  is  a  kind  of  nat'ral  authority,  as  if 
she  was  a  born-queen." 

"  She  is  very  good,  certainly,"  said  Ellen,  as  if  trying  to 
discover  the  secret  of  Susan's  power. 

"  There  it  is,"  replied  Debby,  "  there  is  no  getting  such  a 
grapple  upon  young  folks'  hearts,  without  goodness.  But  come, 
Ellen,  there  is  no  use  in  our  standing  here  paraphrasing  the  mat- 
ter, do  you  go  to  bed,  and  I'll  wait  till  this  old  vulture  has  done 
eating,  and  see  them  off,  and  then  go  back  to  the  traveller's 
room  ;  the  laudanum  has  put  .him  to  sleep  at  last,  and  that  is 
the  best  thing  for  him." 

Ellen  assured  Deborah  that  she  would  comply  with  her 
wishes,  after  having  made  one  effort  to  detain  Emily.  Debo- 
rah commended  her  zeal,  but  was  quite  hopeless  of  success. 
Ellen  said,  that  if  she  could  not  persuade  her  to  remain  with 
them  now,  she  might  suggest  some  considerations  that  might 
weigh  with  her  afterwards.  Debby  thought  "that  looked 
rational;  but  there  was  no  calculating  with  certainty  upon 
such  a  feeble  piece ;  if  Emily's  head  had  been  as  strong  as  her 
heart,  she  would  never  have  been  led  away  by  such  fooleries." 

Sanguine  hope  is  the  privilege  of  the  young;  and  Ellen 
began  her  expostulations  with  her  ardor  unimpaired  by  Debby's 
suggestions.  She  appealed  to  Emily's  reason,  and  to  her  feel- 
ings, for  a  long  time,  without  producing  any  sensible  effect 
Both  Susan  and  Emily  sat  in  a  fixed  posture,  with  their  eyes 


REDWOOD.  89 

riveted  on  the  floor.  At  last,  the  poor  girl,  unable  any  longer 
to  smother  the  voice  of  nature,  sobbed  out,  ';  what  shall  I  do  ? 
what  ought  I  to  do?" 

" '  Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you,' "  exclaimed 
Susan,  in  a  voice  of  authority.  "  You  are  under  a  strong 
temptation,  child,  but  there  is  a  way  of  escape.  Come,  Reu- 
ben," she  added,  turning  to  Harrington,  "we  cannot  tarry  here 
in  safety  any  longer." 

"  I  am  ready  to  depart,"  he  replied,  "  for  my  decaying  na- 
ture is  greatly  refreshed  by  this  carnal  food.  I  feared  before 
I  took  it,  that,  as  the  angel  said  to  the  prophet  Elijah,  my  jour- 
ney had  been  too  great  for  me." 

"  That  is  a  small  matter,  think  not  of  thyself,"  said  Susan ; 
and  then  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  Reuben,  the  child's  soul  is  at 
stake :"  and  she  followed  him  to  the  door,  apparently  to  hasten 
his  preparations.  Ellen  availed  herself  of  this  moment  to  ask 
Emily,  at  the  same  time  placing  her  hand  on  the  latch  of  the 
door  that  led  into  the  apartment  of  the  deceased,  if  she  would 
not  once  more  look  upon  her  brother." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  and  for  the  first  time  instinctively 
obeying  the  impulse  of  her  feelings,  she  darted  through  the 
door :  Ellen  closed  it  after  her  without  following ;  believing 
that  at  this  moment  it  was  best  to  leave  her  to  the  unassisted 
workings  of  her  natural  affections.  But  Susan,  as  soon  as  she 
returned  from  laying  her  injunctions  on  Reuben,  dreading  what 
Ellen  most  wished,  went  to  the  door,  and  said,  as  calmly  as  she 
was  able,  for  her  fears  were  increased  by  seeing  James  Lenox 
standing  beside  Emily,  and  eagerly  addressing  her,  "  Come, 
my  child,  we  wait  for  you ;  be  not  like  a  silly  dove  without 
heart ;  take  up  your  cross  again,  a  full  cross  though  it  be,  and 
turn  your  back  upon  the  world.  Emily,  after  a  short  struggle 
obeyed,  but  with  evident  reluctance.  It  was  manifest  that  the 


90  REDWOOD. 

cords  which  bound  her  were  relaxed  though  not  broken.  Young 
Lenox  followed  her  to  the  door,  and  unobserved  even  by  Su- 
san's watchful  eye,  he  thrust  a  paper  into  her  hand,  which, 
without  examining  or  offering  to  return  it,  she  slipped  into  her 
bosom.  A  person  of  ordinary  sagacity  might  have  predicted, 
that  from  this  moment  the  charm  of  the  elder  sister's  power 
was  weakened,  and  that  though  accident  and  habit,  and  the 
natural  submission  of  weakness,  intellectual  or  physical,  to 
power,  might  detain  the  youthful  disciple  in  thraldom,  it  would 
no  longer  be  the  service  of  a  willing  heart.  Emily  took  an 
affectionate  leave  of  Ellen ;  and  Susan,  after  having  simply 
said,  "  Farewell,"  turned  and  added,  "  you  meant  well,  Ellen 
— I  know  you  meant  well ;  but  you  have  the  voice  of  a  charm- 
er, and  how  should  I  be  justified  if  I  suffered  this  young  child 
to  be  seduced  from  her  obedience  to  the  gospel  ?" 

"  Promise  me,  at  least,"  said  Ellen,  "  that  you  will  not  con- 
strain Emily  to  remain  among  you ;  promise  me  that  you  will 
suffer  her  to  see  and  hear  from  her  friends." 

"  Ellen,"  replied  Susan,  in  a  tone  of  solemnity  bordering 
on  displeasure,  "  we  have  neither  dungeons,  bolts,  nor  chains. 
We  care  not  for  the  poor  service  of  the  perishing  body ;  but 
we  would  bring  all  into  the  obedience  of  the  spirit ;  and,"  she 
concluded,  looking  at  Emily  with  tearful  eyes,  "  we  would  keep 
them  there,  if  watching  and  praying  can  keep  them :  we  have 
no  other  means." 

"  You  promise  then,  what  I  ask  ?" 

"  I  tell  you,  Ellen,"  she  replied,  "  I  need  not  promise. 
Emily  is  as  free  as  I  am — as  you  are." 

"  God  grant  that  she  may  be,"  said  Ellen,  in  a  suppressed 
voice ;  and  perceiving  that  she  could  gain  nothing  farther  from 
the  impracticable  enthusiast,  she  relinquished  her  hand,  which 
in  her  eagerness  she  had  taken,  and  once  more  bidding  fare- 


REDWOOD.  91 

well,  they  parted.  The  wagon  drove  away,  and  Ellen  went  to 
her  own  apartment,  of  which  she  would  have  been  glad  now  to 
have  been  the  sole  tenant.  She  had  been  too  much  disturbed 
by  the  suffering  of  those  she  loved,  to  be  able  to  compose  her- 
self to  sleep ;  and  she  sat  down  by  an  eastern  window,  to  pon- 
der on  the  various  feelings  of  the  heterogeneous  group  of 
mourners  that  Edward's  death  had  brought  together. 

'  Oh,'  thought  she,  as  she  gazed  at  the  far  stars  in  their 
"  quiet  and  orderly  courses,"  and  then  at  the  clear,  still  lake,  in 
whose  depths  their  beautiful  images  seemed  to  sleep :  l  why  is 
it,  that  all  nature  above  us,  and  around  is  harmony,  while  we 
are  left  to  such  conflicts  ?  The  material  world  is  performing 
the  will  of  its  Creator :  the  glorious  sun  is  ever  on  its  way. 
shining  on  the  just  and  the  unjust ;  the  obedient  planets  roll 
on,  in  their  appointed  paths ;  the  clouds  distil  their  nourish- 
ing waters,  and  the  winds  are  His  messengers,  as  they  pass, 
stirring  the  leaves  and  waving  the  ripening  harvest.'  Ellen's 
reflections  might  have  led  her  to  a  solution  of  the  mystery, 
satisfactory  to  herself  at  least,  but  their  chain  was  broken  by 
an  exclamation  from  Miss  Redwood,  who,  waking  suddenly,  ex- 
claimed, "  Good  heavens,  Miss  what's  your  name,  are  you  up 
already?  Do  be  good  enough  to  go  to  bed  again — I  can  never 
sleep  when  any  one  is  hazing  about  my  room ;  and  close  the 
blind  if  you  please,  the  light  disturbs  me." 

Ellen  smiled,  but  not  thinking  it  important  to  explain  the 
cause  of  her  being  up  at  an  hour  that  Miss  Redwood  deemed 
so  unseasonable,  she  let  fall  a.  neatly  woven  rush  curtain,  which 
but  imperfectly  excluded  the  impertinent  intrusion  of  the  ap- 
proaching day ;  and,  laying  herself  on  her  bed,  she  was  soon 
in  a  sleep  that  Miss  Redwood  might  have  envied. 


92  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Thus  Aristippus  mourned  his  noble  race, 
Annihilated  by  a  double  blow, 
Nor  son  could  hope,  nor  daughter  more  ('embrace, 
And  all  Cyrene  saddened  at  his  woe." — COWPER. 

DOCTOR  BRISTOL  called  on  his  patient  the  succeeding  day; 
he  found  him  feverish,  and  petulant  in  spite  of  his  habitual 
politeness ;  he  complained  that  the  opiate  had  not  been  power- 
ful enough.  He  anticipated  a  long  delay ;  he  was  used  to  dis- 
appointment, and  for  himself  Could  bear  it ;  but  he  dreaded  to 
encounter  his  daughter's  impatience.  Doctor  Bristol  understood 
too  well  the  arts  of  his  vocation,  he  was  too  sagacious  a  practi- 
tioner, not  to  have  observed  that  a  skilful  application  to  the  mind 
is  often  a  surer  remedy  than  any  favorite  or  fashionable  drug. 
B  e  accounted  satisfactorily  to  Mr.  Redwood  for  the  increase  of 
fever ;  he  detected  and  brought  to  light  many  favorable  symp- 
toms ;  he  spoke  of  a  ball  which  was  to  be  given  in  the  village, 
and  intimated  that  some  of  the  most  respectable  inhabitants 
would  wait  on  Miss  Redwood,  and  deem  themselves  honored 
by  her  presence.  He  produced  some  late  newspapers  which  he 
had  procured  at  the  post-office  ;  the  last  foreign  reviews  ;  and 
succeeded  in  producing  as  sudden  a  change  of  symptoms  as  an 
empiric  would  have  promised. 

Mr.  Redwood  described  the  extraordinary  scene  he  had 


REDWOOD.  93 

witnessed  during  the  night ;  asked  many  questions,  and  with 
particular  interest  in  relation  to  the  young  lady  whose  face 
and  demeanor  had  impressed  him  as  belonging  to  an  elevated 
sphere.  Doctor  Bristol  assured  him,  that  his  sagacity  was  not 
at  fault,  for  Miss  Bruce  (the  young  lady  in  question)  was  not 
a  member  of  the  Lenox  family,  but  a  stranger  at  Eton,  and  a 
friend  of  the  Aliens.  Mr.  Redwood  said  that  the  various 
modes  of  religious  superstition  always  interested  him  ;  he  was 
amused  with  seeing  how  willing  man  was  to  be  the  dupe  of  his 
own  inventions  ;  and  intimating,  that  in  the  eye  of  experience 
and  enlightened  observation,  all  the  forms  of  religious  faith 
were  equally  absurd ;  shackles  which  men  imposed,  or  wore, 
from  tyranny  or  imbecility,  he  concluded  by  insinuating  a  com- 
pliment upon  the  free-thinking  which  was  so  common  among 
the  enlightened  of  the  doctor's  profession.  Doctor  Bristol, 
without  assuming  the  attitude  of  combat,  or  seeming  entirely 
to  comprehend  the  drift  of  Mr.  Redwood's  remarks,  observed, 
that  the^e  were,  in  his  fraternity,  some  distinguished  exceptions 
to  the  charge  which  had  been  laid  against  them.  Every  one 
acknowledged  the  authority  of  Boerhaave's  name,  "  and  our  own 
Rush,"  he  said,  (speaking  with  honorable  pride  of  his  master,) 
"  is  among  the  most  humane  and  enlightened  of  philosophers, 
and  the  most  humble  of  Christians."  Mr.  Redwood  perceived 
that  he  had  not  proceeded  with  his  usual  tact ;  that  he  had 
presumed  too  far  upon  what  he  considered  the  necessary  result 
of  Doctor  Bristol's  general  intelligence.  He  avoided  any  farther 
remarks  which  might  have  a  tendency  to  disclose  his  own  sen- 
timents, and  confined  himself  to  comments  on  the  persons  he 
had  observed  the  preceding  night.  He  said  he  hardly  knew 
whether  the  opinions  of  those  people  seemed  to  him  most  ridi- 
culous or  shocking.  "  Truly,  he  knew  not  which  most  to  pity ; 
the  poor  old  woman,  who  fancied  a  silly  girl  must  lose  all 


94  REDWOOD. 

chance  of  salvation,  because,  forsooth,  she  had  forsaken  the 
world,  and  in  good  faith,  joined  a  gloomy  and  self-denying 
order ;  or  her  child,  the  shaking  Quaker  who  had  immolated 
every  right  and  natural  affection  to  an  imaginary  duty ;  who 
had  forsaken  all  that  made  life  a  blessing,  to  follow  an  ignorant 
fanatic,  or  an  impudent  impostor."  The  doctor  acknowledged 
that  such  mistakes  were  lamentable ;  the  result  of  limited 
knowledge,  or  accidental  prejudices.  Still,  he  thought,  that 
while  we  lamented  the  errors  to  which  we  were  liable,  we  might 
rejoice  that  the  light  we  enjoyed,  was  light  from  heaven, 
though  its  clearness  must  depend  somewhat  on  the  purity  of 
the  atmosphere  into  which  it  was  introduced  ;  the  mists  of  ig- 
norance might  dim.  but  did  not  extinguish  its  pure  ray.  If  an 
immortal  hope  led  these  people  to  some  unnecessary  sacrifices, 
it  stimulated  them  to  those  that  were  necessary  ;  for  he  believ- 
ed there  was  no  variety  of  the  Christian  faith,  however  distorted 
from  the  perfection  of  the  original  model,  which  did  not  insist 
on  a  pure  morality.  « 

The  doctor  invited  Mr.  Redwood  to  observe  the 'state  of 
things  about  him ;  the  wise  and  excellent  institutions  which 
had  sprung  from  the  religion  of  the  pilgrims  ;  the  intelligence 
and  morality  that  pervaded  the  mass  of  the  people,  which  might 
be  said  to  emanate  from  the  principle  of  equality,  derived  from 
the  Christian  code.  He  spoke  of  the  religious  zeal  and  the 
active  benevolence  which  pervades  our  society,  which,  not  neg- 
lecting the  means  of  moral  regeneration  at  home,  sends  its  mis- 
sionaries to  the  fearful  climate  of  the  east ;  to  the  barbarians 
of  the  south,  and  to  the  savages  of  our  own  dangerous  wilder- 
ness. These  noble  efforts  were  not,  as  in  older  countries,  sup- 
ported by  the  pious  zeal  of  a  few  of  the  bountiful,  or  the  gifts 
of  the  penitent  rich,  who  by  a  kind  of  spiritual  commutation, 
expected  to  purchase,  by  their  brilliant  charities,  the  remission 


REDWOOD.  95 

of  their  sins  ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  they  were  the  fruit  of  the 
virtuous  self-denials  and  exertions  of  the  laborious  classes  of 
the  community. 

Mr.  Redwood  listened  with  more  patience  than  could  have 
been  expected  from  one  who  had  philosophic  prejudices  ;  more 
inveterate,  perhaps,  than  those  which  spring  from  the  conceit 
of  ignorance,  because  they  are  fortified  by  the  pride  of  know- 
ledge, and  assume  the  form  of  independent  opinions,  which  is 
so  flattering  to  our  self-love.  There  was  something,  too,  in 
Doctor  Bristol's  manner  that  recommended  every  sentiment  he 
uttered ;  it  was  so  calm,  so  dispassionate,  there  was  so  much 
of  the  serenity  of  truth  in  it.  There  were  no  extravagant 
statements ;  he  did  not  insist  that  another  should  believe,  be- 
cause he  felt  the  truth  of  such  and  such  propositions ;  he  did 
not  enter  into  a  formal  argument,  but  intimated  the  grounds 
on  which  his  own  opinions  had  been  formed,  and  permitted 
Mr.  Redwood  to  draw  his  own  conclusions,  hoping  they  would 
be  such,  as  seemed  to  him  natural  and  inevitable. 

Mr.  Redwood  made  minute  inquiries  in  relation  to  the 
Lenox  family.  He  expressed  his  surprise  and  regret  that  they 
had  not  thought  proper  to  interfere  and  detain  by  force,  if 
necessary,  the  foolish  little  girl,  who  he  predicted  would  soon 
be  sick  of  her  folly.  He  was  pleased  to  hear  that  the  doctor, 
as  well  as  himself,  regarded  Deborah  as  an  amusing  original ; 
and  he  again  intimated  some  curiosity  in  relation  to  Miss 
Bruce,  which  the  doctor  either  could  not  or  did  not  chose  to 
gratify.  He  did  not  allow  the  doctor  to  leave  him  till  he  had 
requested  him  to  make  his  visits  as  long  and  as  frequent  as 
possible,  nor  till  he  had  expressed,  in  the  most  flattering  terms, 
his  entire  confidence  in  the  doctor's  professional  ability. 

Miss  Redwood  entered  her  father's  room  as  Doctor  Bristol 
left  it,  to  make  her  dutiful  inquiries,  which  were,  perhaps, 


96  REDWOOD. 

nearly  as  much  a  matter  of  form  as  the  professional  visit  of 
the  physician.  After  she  had  gone  through  the  customary 
routine  of,  "how  he  had  slept?  how  he  felt  himself,"  &c.,  she 
said,  "  if  you  have  no  objections,  papa,  I  will  take  a  drive  this 
afternoon  to  the  village  while  this  funeral  is  going  on  here. 
Ralph  tells  me  the  injury  done  to  the  carriage  yesterday  was 
very  slight,  and  that  he  can  have  it  in  order  by  one  o'clock, 
the  hour  appointed  for  the  funeral." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood,  "  you 
will  gratify  me  if  you  will  forego  your  ride,  and  offer  the  car- 
riage for  the  use  of  the  poor  old  woman  and  her  young  friend: 
they  have  not  probably  as  convenient  a  mode  of  riding,  and  I 
am  told  it  is  customary  in  New  England  for  the  female  rela- 
tives to  follow  the  body  to  the  grave." 

"  How  barbarous  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Redwood ;  "  but  thank 
fortune,  there  is  no  occasion  for  offering  the  carriage,  for  Lilly 
tells  me,  the  old  woman  is  too  sick  to  go  out,  and  is  just  to  sit 
up  and  hear  the  prayer,  and  all  that ;  and  so,  papa,  if  you 
have  no  objections  I  will  take  the  carriage,  and  get  out  of 
the  way :  funerals  are  so  disagreeable  ;  they  always  make  me 
nervous ;  I  don't  see  the  use  of  them." 

The  poet's  doctrine,  that  "  sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity," 
was  nearly  as  foreign  from  the  father's  as  the  daughter's  expe- 
rience :  but  he  perceived  that  the  good-will  of  the  Lenox  family 
would  be  of  very  material  use  to  them ;  and  thinking  that  it 
might  be  conciliated  by  the  deference  to  their  feelings  which 
would  be  evinced  by  Miss  Redwood's  presence  at  the  funeral 
solemnity,  he  requested  her  to  gratify  him  by  deferring  her 
own  inclinations.  The  request  had  too  much  authority  in  it 
to  be  denied ;  and  though  Miss  Redwood  thought  it  great  folly 
to  take  the  trouble  to  win  favor  which  might  be  purchased,  she 
did  not  in  the  end  regret  that  she  had  complied  with  her 


REDWOOD.  97 

father's  request,  so  much  was  she  amused  with  the  number  and 
aspect  of  the  crowd  which  the  occasion  assembled. 

The  observances  of  a  funeral  in  a  country  town  in  New 
England  are  quite  primitive ;  but  their  simplicity  is  more 
touching  than  the  most  pompous  ceremonial,  for  it  speaks  the 
language  of  nature  to  natural  and  universal  feeling  ;  and  even 
to  those  who  are  not  of  that  soft  mould  that  is  easily  impressed 
by  human  sympathies,  and  who  have  only  witnessed  this  last 
scene  in  the  drama  of  life  in  a  city,  the  spectacle  of  a  country 
funeral  must  always  be  curious.  In  town,  a  funeral  procession 
scarcely  attracts  the  eye  ef  the  boy,  who  is  carelessly  trundling 
his  hoop,  or  flying  his  kite,  and  the  busy  and  the  gay  bustle 
past,  as  if  they  cared  for  none  of  these  things,  and  had  neither 
part  nor  lot  in  them.  But  in  the  country,  where  life  is  not  so 
abounding ;  where  each  knows  his  neighbor,  the  events  of  his 
life,  and  the  hope  he  may  have  had  in  death ;  the  full  import 
and  significance  of  this  event  is  felt.  Some  will  attend  a  fune- 
ral, because  they  remember  a  kind  word  or  deed  of  the  depart- 
ed, or,  it  may  be,  a  kind  look  that  inspired  a  personal  interest ; 
some,  from  respect  for  the  living ;  some,  because  it  is  good  to  go 
to  the  house  of  mourning :  the  old  would  not  shrink  from  the 
admonition  they  hear  there,  and  the  old  take  the  young  because 
they  ought  not  to  shrink  from  it:  some  like  to  watch  the  tears 
of  the  mourners,  and  some  to  note  there  are  no  tears.  The 
motives  that  draw  any  crowd  together  are  almost  as  various  as 
the  persons  that  compose  it.  On  this  occasion  there  was  an 
universal  sentiment  of  compassion  for  the  solitary  aged  mourn- 
er, and  of  respect  for  the  memory  of  the  departed.  Miss  Red- 
wood took  her  station  at  one  extremity  of  the  apartment  in 
which  the  assembly  met.  She  was  arrayed  with  studied  ele- 
gance ;  Lilly  stood  on  one  side  of  her  chair,  and  a  footman  in 

livery  on  the  other :  the  body  of  the  deceased  was  on  the  opposite 
5 


98  REDWOOD. 

side  of  the  room :  next  to  it  sat  Mrs.  Allen,  and  beside  her,  and 
supporting  her,  Ellen,  who,  in  a  simple  white  dress,  her  face 
beaming  with  tender  sympathy,  looked  like  the  embodied  spirit 
of  religion.  Perhaps  beauty  is  never  more  touching  than  when, 
exclusively  occupied  with  the  sufferings  of  others,  it  is  lit  up 
with  that  divine  expression  of  tender  compassion,  which,  to  a 
religious  imagination,  is  the  peculiar  attribute  of  an  angel's 
face.  Next  Ellen  sat  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lenox  and  theii»  numerous 
family,  all  clad  in  mourning ;  their  sad  looks  suiting  well  with 
their  badges  of  grief.  The  two  youngest  children  were  placed 
on  a  bench  at  their  parents'  feet,  and  whenever  they  could 
withdraw  their  eyes  from  the  various  objects  that  attracted 
them,  they  would  peep  into  their  parents'  faces,  and  catching 
the  expressive  language  of  sorrow,  fall  to  crying,  till  some  new 
object  diverted  their  attention.  Miss  Deborah,  having  no  part 
of  her  own  to  perform,  acted  as  mistress  of  ceremonies.  She 
spoke,  perhaps,  oftener  and  louder  than  was  necessary,  but  on 
the  whole,  she  conducted  her  affairs  with  less  official  bustle  than 
is  common  on  such  occasions.  After  having  made  a  clear  space 
for  the  clergyman  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  assigned  to 
others  their  places,  allotting  the  arrangement  of  the  procession 
to  a  gigantic  militia  major,  who  usually  filled  that  office,  she 
seated  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  coffin,  permitted  a  large  gray 
cat,  that  came  purring  through  the  crowd,  to  take  its  usual 
station  in  her  lap,  composed  her  muscles  to  a  rigid  attention, 
and  motioned  to  the  clergyman  to  begin  his  duty.  He  made 
an  affecting  exhortation,  founded  on  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  A  funeral  hymn  was  sung,  and  he 
then  proceeded  to  close  the  services  with  a  prayer,  not  however 
until  Deborah  had  whispered  to  him,  "  the  old  lady  is  just 
spent,  be  short,  sir :  pray  but  a  breath  or  two."  The  aged 
mourner  had  listened  without  once  raising  her  eyes,  without  a 


REDWOOD.  99 

» 

sigh  or  a  movement.  It  seemed  as  if  time  or  grief  had  dried 
the  fountain  of  her  tears,  for  not  one  was  seen  on  her  furrowed 
cheek.  The  services  over,  the  Major  ordered  the  crowd  to  fall 
back  to  the  right  and  left,  while  the  coffin  was  carried  out.  His 
order  was  obeyed,  (though  with  somewhat  less  of  military  pre- 
cision than  it  was  given,)  and  the  coffin  was  placed  in  the 
court-yard  under  the  wide-spreading  branches  of  an  elm  tree. 
He  then  returned  to  the  door,  and  in  the  tone  of  military  com- 
mand, desired  the  mourners  to  advance  and  look  at  the  corpse, 
and  added  a  notice  to  the  assembly  to  come  forward  immedi- 
ately after  the  mourners  had  retired,  it  being  necessary  that 
all  should  take  their  last  looks  now,  as  the  lid  of  the  coffin  was 
to  be  screwed  down  before  the  procession  moved :  a  burst  of 
grief  from  the  group  of  mourners  evinced  that  these  commands, 
given  out  as  the  mere  forms  of  preparation,  were  to  them  the 
dreadful  signal  of  a  final  separation.  Mrs.  Allen  rose  from 
her  chair,  but  even  with  Ellen's  aid  was  unable  to  move  for- 
ward till  Doctor  Bristol,  advancing  from  the  crowd,  gave  her 
the  support  of  his  stronger  arm.  She  then  approached  the 
coffin,  and  bent  for  the  last  time  over  the  body  of  her  child ; 
her  tears,  which  had  been  checked  till  this  moment,  now  flowed 
freely;  and  as  she  raised  her  head,  she  perceived  they  had 
fallen  on  Edward's  face ;  she  said  nothing,  but  carefully  wiped 
them  away.  "  She  is  right,"  whispered  Doctor  Bristol  to  Ellen. 
"  Edward  has  nothing  more  to  do  with  tears :  they  are  all 
wiped  away."  "  Oh,  my  son,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Allen,  in  a  low 
broken  voice,  "  would  to  God  Emily  laid  beside  you ;  then 
would  I  thankfully  lay  down  my  weary  body  with  you." 
"  But,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  in  which  her  piety 
struggled  with  her  nature,  "  God's  will  be  done." 

"  Glad  am  I  to  hear  those  words,"    said  Debby,  who  stood 
near  enough  to  catch  the  feeble  sounds :  "  the  poor  old  lady's 


100  REDWOOD. 

cup  has  been  brimful  of  trouble  so  long,  that  it  would  not  be 
strange  if  she  did  think  herself  something  crowded  on." 

"  Crowded  on — what  can  the  woman  mean  ?"  asked  a  young 
man  of  his  companion ;  but  before  the  inquirer  could  obtain  a 
reply,  he  was  jostled  out  of  his  place  by  others  pressing  eagerly 
forward  to  gaze  for  the  last  time  on  the  face  of  the  deceased. 
All,  as  they  turned  away,  looked  on  Mrs.  Allen,  and  some,  per- 
haps, wondered  that  the  leafless,  scathed  trunk  should  have 
been  passed  by,  and  the  young  sapling  cut  down  in  its  prime 
and  beauty.  Mrs.  Allen  was  led  back  to  the  house,  attended 
by  Ellen  and  Doctor  Bristol ;  they  passed  through  the  apart- 
ment where  Miss  Redwood  still  maintained  her  station,  and 
where  she  continued  to  gaze  on  all  that  passed  before  her,  with 
the  indifference  with  which  she  would  have  regarded  the  shift- 
ing scenes  of  a  wearisome  play :  the  Major  approached  her,  and 
with  awkward,  but  well-meant  civility,  told  her  she  would  have 
a  good  chance  now  to  look  at  the  corpse,  and,  being  she  was  a 
stranger,  he  would  see  her  through  the  crowd  himself. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  she  replied,  disdainfully,  "  I  have  no 
fancy  for  looking  at  dead  people,  and  certainly  I  shall  not  look 
at  one  dead,  that  I  never  saw  living."  The  Major,  thus  rebuffed, 
turned  away,  and  meeting  Debby,  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  I 
rather  think  that  young  stranger  girl  has  got  to  find  out  yet 
that  she  is  mortal.  Why  bless  my  soul !  a  body  would  think 
her  road  did  not  lay  graveward ;  but  young,  and  handsome, 
and  topping  as  she  is,  she  must  come  to  it  at  last.  "  She  is  a 
pretty  creature  though,  to  look  at,"  he  added,  paying  her  the 
tribute  of  another  full  stare,  "  she  is  almost  as  handsome  as 
the  wax-work  Rhode  Island  beauty." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  replied  Debby,  "  handsome  is  that  handsome 
does,"  and  she  glanced  her  eyes  towards  Ellen  Bruce  ;  "  that 
is  my  rule,  it  is  an  old  one,  but  it  will  never  wear  out." 


REDWOOD.  101 

A  call  was  now  given  to  form  the  procession.  Mrs.  Allen 
was  conducted  by  her  kind  attendants,  to  her  own  apartment. 
The  rooms  were  cleared,  the  procession  moved  away,  and  the 
house  was  restored  to  its  usual  quiet  and  order. 


102  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


"  What  folly  I  commit  I  dedicate  to  you." 

Two  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


THE  week  that  followed  the  funeral  would  have  been  passed  by 
Miss  Redwood  in  perfect  listlessness,  had  not  Ellen  Bruce 
excited  her  curiosity,  and  her  curiosity  been  stimulated  by  the 
difficulty  of  its  gratification.  The  following  petulant  produc- 
tion of  her  pen,  a  letter  achieved  to  her  grandmother  after 
repeated  and  painful  efforts,  will  afford  a  fair  view  of  her  feel- 
ings. It  certainly  is  not  a  favorable  specimen  of  her  talents, 
for  she  had  originally  a  strongly  marked  character ;  and  aban- 
doned from  her  infancy  to  the  guidance  of  a  doting  and  silly 
grandmother,  and  early  initiated  into  fashionable  and  frivolous 
society,  with  uncommon  intellectual  capacities,  and  strong  pas- 
sions, she  was  permitted  to  devote  herself  to  every  thing  that 
was  trifling,  and  in  short,  condemned  to  a  perpetual  childhood. 
But  no  farther  remarks  shall  be  intruded  on  the  just  infer- 
ences which  the  good  sense  of  our  readers  will  enable  them 
to  deduce  from  the  document  itself.  We  give  it,  italics  and 
all,  for  Miss  Redwood,  like  most  young  ladies,  abounded  in 
emphasis. 

"  My  dear  grandmama, — I  can  fancy  your  vexation  when 
you  receive  this  letter  ;  for  you,  and  you  alone,  can  form  an 
adequate  notion  of  my  disappointments  and  present  misery. 


REDWOOD.  103 

As  to  papa,  you  know  he  never  feels,  nor  thinks  as  you  and  I 
do — papa  is  so  odd. 

"  No  doubt,  in  your  imagination,  I  am  figuring  in  the  draw- 
ing-rooms of  Boston,  displaying  those  beautiful  dresses  you 
imported  for  this  ill-starred  journey  ;  leading  captive  my  thou- 
sands and  my  tens  of  thousands ;  living  in  an  atmosphere  of 
lovers'  sighs,  and  on  the  eve  of  breaking  a  hundred  hearts  by 
my  departure  for  the  Springs,  where  we  expected  that  a  second 
harvest  of  conquest  and  glory  awaited  me.  '  Now  look  on  that 
picture,  and  on  this.'  Here  I  am  at  a  vulgar  farmer's,  on  the 
outskirts  of  a  town  called  Eton ;  and  so  changed  am  I,  or 
rather  every  thing  about  me  is  so  changed,  that  I  can  scarcely 
believe  that  not  much  more  than  one  little  month  has  elapsed 
since  I  was  walking  in  Broadway  with  Captain  Fenwick — (by 
the  way,  Broadway  is  a  sublime  place  for  a  real  show-off.) — and 
he  said  to  me,  as  admirer  after  admirer  poured  into  my  train, 
"  you  see,  Miss  Redwood,  that  you  are  the  centre  of  the  sys- 
tem,— the  sun ;  and  we,  your  satellites,  humbly  revolve  around 
you."  What  would  he  think,  what  could  he  say,  if  he  were  to 
see  me  now ;  not  a  creature  dazzled  by  my  brightness,  though 
there  is  not  a  rival  star  in  the  heavens  1  But  a  truce  to  lamen- 
tations, I  will  proceed  to  facts ;  and  then,  dear  grandmama, 
you  will  perceive  how  much  I  deserve  and  need  your  pity.  I 
must  begin  my  relation  at  St.  John's,  where  the  only  pleasant 
incident  occurred  which  this  letter  will  contain.  You  will 
remember  that  I  wrote  you  from  Montreal  the  particulars  of 
my  first  interview  with  Captain  Fitzgerald,  et  cetera^  et  cetera, 
etcetera:  how  many  delightful  gallantries  and  flattering  speech- 
es are  included  in  these  et  ceteras  !  Speaking  of  Fitzgerald  car- 
ries me  back  to  Montreal ;  and  I  must  say,  en  passant,  I  was 
shockingly  disappointed  in  the  size  and  appearance  of  the  city, 
which  I  expected  to  find  as  large  as  New- York :  and  still  more 


104  REDWOOD. 

with  the  military  band,  for  you  know,  grandmama,  you  always 
told  me  that  since  the  revolution  we  had  never  had  any  mili- 
tary music  fit  to  be  heard.  But,  to  return  to  our  journey.  The 
first  person  I  beheld  on  arriving  at  St.  John's  was  Fitzgerald ; 
he  had  come  there,  as  he  whispered  to  me.  to  see  me  once 
more.  Papa  was  very  cold — almost  rude  to  him ;  but  I  took 
care  that  my  pleasure  should  be  sufficiently  apparent  to  com- 
pensate him  for  papa's  incivility.  It  is  so  strange  of  papa, 
when  he  knows  that  Fitzgerald  is  the  son  of  an  earl,  and  bro- 
ther to  a  lord ;  and  if  he  is  a  little  gay,  as  papa  says  he  is, 
dissipation  is  universal  among  military  men,  and  no  fault  of 
theirs  of  course.  I  don't  see  what  good  it  does  papa  not  to  be 
religious,  if  he  will  make  such  a  fuss  about  trifles.  My  dear 
grandmama,  you  would  admire  Fitzgerald ;  and  you  may  have 
an  opportunity ;  for  he  assured  me,  that  if  he  could  get  up  a 
cough  that  would  furnish  a  pretext  to  ask  leave  of  absence,  he 
would  pass  the  next  winter  at  Charleston.  He  hinted  at  the 
possibility  of  meeting  me  at  the  Springs.  I  am  ready  to  die 
with  vexation  when  I  think  of  what  I  may  lose  by  our  deten- 
tion in  this  wretched  place.  It  is  but  little  more  than  a  week, 
though  it  seems  to  me  an  age,  since  we  met  with  the  shocking 
accident  which  has  caused  our  delay.  Immediately  on  getting 
into  our  own  carriage,  (the  sight  of  which  was  the  first  thing 
that  revived  me  after  parting  with  Fitzgerald.)  we  were  over- 
taken by  a  tremendous  thunder-storm,  which,  of  course,  almost 
deprived  me  of  my  senses ;  the  lightning  struck  a  number  of 
trees,  and  the  prodigious  blaze  that  ensued,  so  terrified  the 
horses,  that  they  leaped  over  an  immense  precipice.  Fortu- 
nately, the  carriage  was  not  turned  over,  owing,  I  believe, 
though  I  never  understood  clearly  how  it  was,  to  its  being 
caught  among  the  branches  of  the  trees.  I  was  wild  with  fright, 
and  poor  Lilly  as  white  as  my  handkerchief.  As  soon  as  we 


REDWOOD.  105 

were  extricated  from  our  perilous  situation,  we  took  refuge  in 
the  nearest  farm-house,  glad,  at  the  moment,  of  any  shelter 
from  the  storm.  We  should  have  proceeded  the  same  evening 
to  the  village,  but  papa  had  his  arm  horribly  broken  in  jump- 
ing from  the  carriage,  and  here  we  were  obliged  to  remain ; 
and  here  we  have  a  prospect  of  passing  the  remainder  of  papa's 
life ;  for  strange  to  tell,  he  has  put  himself  into  the  hands  of  a 
country  doctor ;  and  what  is  worse,  though  he  never  believed 
in  any  thing  before,  he  has  taken  a  freak  to  place  implicit  con- 
fidence in  this  man,  whose  interest  it  is,  you  know,  to  detain 
him  here  as  long  as  possible.  This,  papa  does  not  seem  to  sus- 
pect, clairvoyant  as  he  prides  himself  on  being,  and  aided  too, 
by  the  light  of  my  hints,  which,  you  may  be  sure,  I  have  not 
spared.  What  is  most  extraordinary  and  provoking  of  all,  is, 
that  papa,  who  was  never  contented  before  in  his  life,  appears 
as  satisfied  as  if  he  had  entered  elysium ;  and  never  before 
patient,  has  suddenly  become  as  patient  as  Job. 

"  There  is  one  solution  of  the  mystery  which  I  hardly  dare 
to  commit  to  paper,  lest  some  bird  of  the  air  should  carry  it  to 
papa. 

"  You  must  know,  grandmama,  there  is  a  young  woman 
here,  lady  I  suppose  I  must  call  her,  for  to  confess  the  truth, 
she  has  every  appearance  of  being  one,  that  has  inspired  papa 
with  the  most  surprising  admiration,  from  the  first  moment 
that  he  saw  her.  I  dare  not  say  he  is  in  love  with  her :  I  will 
not  think  it.  I  should  go  mad  if  I  believed  it ;  but  he  has 
the  most  unaccountable  interest  in  her.  Yesterday  I  said  to 
him,  with  as  much  apparent  carelessness  as  I  could  assume, 
'  Lilly  tells  me  that  this  Miss  Bruce  is  shortly  to  be  married.' 

" '  Ah,'  said  he,  starting  from  one  of  his  fits  of  absence,  '  to 
whom  ?  where  did  Lilly  pick  up  this  intelligence  ?'  '  From 
some  of  the  family ;  the  happy  man  is  a  sou  of  our  host,  a 


106  REDWOOD. 

young  parson.'  '  Impossible !'  exclaimed  papa.  '  Impossible, 
sir,'  I  echoed,  '  why  so  ?'  the  dear  old  gentleman  was  a  little 
flustered  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  '  Miss  Bruce  is  so  supe- 
rior in  some  respects  to  this  Lenox  family,  so  intelligent  and 
cultivated.'  '  But,  papa,  you  are  always  crying  up  these  Le- 
noxes for  such  knowing  people.'  '  They  deserve  our  respect, 
Miss  Redwood :  they  are  excessively  well-informed,  and  ami- 
able :  but,  Caroline,  you  must  see  the  disparity  between  them 
and  Miss  Bruce ;  it  is  quite  apparent :  the  gracefulness  of  her 
demeanor,  the  uncommon  delicacy  of  her  manners,  and  the 
very  tones  of  her  voice,  mark  her  as  a  person  of  the  highest 
order.'  It  is  a  gone  case,  thought  I ;  but,  hiding  my  thoughts 
in  the  depths  of  my  heart,  I  replied,  '  she  has  undoubtedly  an 
air  of  higher  breeding  than  these  Lenox  girls ;  but  why  should 
she  be  on  intimate  terms  with  the  family,  if  she  has  such  supe- 
rior pretensions  ?'  '  I  know  not,'  he  replied,  pettishly  ;  '  there 
is  some  tie  to  the  Aliens,  I  believe ;  but  of  course  it  is  a  sub- 
ject which  we  cannot  with  any  propriety  investigate.'  He  then 
told  me  he  was  fatigued,  and  would  like  to  be  left  alone  ;  and 
as  I  came  out  of  the  room,  he  requested  me  to  send  Lilly  to 
him.  His  reluctance  to  investigation  was  suddenly  vanquished, 
for,  as  I  afterwards  learned  from  Lilly,  he  questioned,  and 
cross-questioned  her  as  to  the  source  and  amount  of  her  intel- 
ligence.— Heaven  grant  it  may  be  true  ! 

"  I  cannot  imagine  how  papa  can  feel  any  interest  in  this 
Lenox  family ;  they  are  common,  working,  vulgar  farmers. 
There  is  one  oddity  among  them,  whom  they  call  an  '  old 
girl ;'  a  hideous  monster — a  giantess  :  I  suspect  a  descendant 
of  the  New  England  witches  ;  and  I  verily  believe,  if  the  truth 
was  known,  she  has  spell-bound  papa.  The  wretch  is  really 
quite  fond  of  him  :  for  him  she  wrings  the  necks  of  her  fattest 
fowls,  and  I  hear  her  at  this  moment  bawling  to  one  of  the 


REDWOOD.  107 

boys,  to  kill  the  black-eared  roaster — for  him  no  doubt. 
Notwithstanding  her  devotion  to  papa,  she  does  not  pay  me  the 
least  respect,  but  lavishes  all  her  favor  on  Ellen  Bruce.  I  over- 
heard her  this  morning  saying  to  Mrs.  Lenox,  that  Ellen  was 
as  much  of  a  lady  as  that  Caroliny  gal,  with  all  her  flaunting 
flounces  and  folderols.  Ellen,  she  said,  had  been  brought  up 
to  business ;  but  as  to  that  useless  piece,  she  could  neither  act 
nor  transact.  She  says,  too,  that,  rather  than  have  a  fellow- 
creter  tag  round  after  her,  as  Lilly  does  after  me,  she  would 
turn  wild  Indian. 

"  Only  think,  dear  grandmama,  of  my  being  obliged  to 
hear  such  rude  things  said,  without  retort  or  resentment,  for 
papa  is  very  angry  if  I  betray  in  the  slightest  degree  my  con- 
tempt and  detestation  of  these  people  and  their  ways  :  even  if  I 
ridicule  them,  he  quotes  to  me  a  wise  old  saw  of  Csesar's,  or 
somebody's,  that,  '  He  that  condemns  rusticity  is  himself  a  rus- 
tic.' In  heaven's  name,  of  what  use  is  rank  or  fortune,  if  it 
does  not  make  you  independent  of  such  animals ! 

"  In  every  respect  this  place  is  disagreeable  to  me.  It  fa- 
tigues me  to  death  to  see  the  family  labor :  labor,  as  you  often 
say,  grandmama,  was  made  for  slaves,  and  slaves  for  labor  ;  but 
here,  they  toil  on  as  if  it  were  a  pleasure.  They  have  an  im- 
mense farm,  as  they  call  their  plantation,  and  but  two  servants, 
(one  a  negro.)  or  as  they  call  them,  Jidps  ;  and  well  are  they 
thus  named,  for  they  do  no  more  work  than  the  rest  of  .the  fam- 
ily ;  and  what  provokes  me  more  than  all,  is,  that  these  servants 
read  and  write,  and  are  taught  arithmetic,  and  the  Lord  knows 
what  all ;  and  Lilly  and  Ralph  have  this  dreadful  example  be- 
fore them.  But  the  most  ridiculous  thing,  is,  the  fuss  these 
people  make  about  learning,  as  they  call  all  sorts  of  knowledge ; 
one  would  think  it  was  the  philosopher's  stone,  by  the  pains 
they  take  to  get  it.  After  the  girls  '  have  done  up  their  work, 


108  REDWOOD. 

and  put  every  thing  to  rights,'  (this  is  their  jargon,)  they  walk 
twice  in  a. week,  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  village  to  hear  a  man 
lecture  on  botany.  I  am  sure  you  would  expire  with  laughter, 
to  see  their  boors  of  brothers  come  from  their  work  in  the 
fields,  laden  with  flowers  for  their  sisters  to  analyze,  or  preserve 
in  their  herbariums.  There  is  a  village  library,  and  as  much 
eagerness  for  the  dull  histories  and  travels  it  contains,  as  you 
and  I  ever  felt  to  get  a  new  novel  into  our  possession.  As  to 
novels,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  obtaining  one,  unless  it  be 
some  of  Miss  Edgeworth's,  which  scarcely  deserve  the  sweet 
name  of  romances.  If  I  could  but  sleep  as  we  used  to  in  the 
country,  and  the  country,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  was  made  for  no- 
thing else,  I  could  contrive  to  get  rid  of  more  of  my  time ; 
but  the  air  on  the  lake  shore  is  so  bracing,  that  for  my  life  I 
cannot  sleep  more  than  nine  or  ten  hours.  These  people  are 
excessively  civil  to  papa ;  but  they  seem  to  think  they  have 
a  right  to  place  themselves  on  an  equality  with  me.  and  the 
more  haughty  my  manners,  the  less  attention  they  pay  to  me. 
Papa  reads  me  long  lectures  about  availing  myself  of  this  op- 
portunity of  studying  human  nature,  and  observing  the  differ- 
ent conditions  of  human  life.  He  says  these  people  are  much 
wiser  than  I  am — Lord  !  as  if  I  cared  to  be  wise  ! — Papa  is 
odd.  I  should  as  soon  think  of  taking  Robinson  Crusoe's 
desert  island  for  a  study  as  this  place.  My  dramatis  persona 
are  people  comme-il-faut,  and  my  scene  the  drawing-room,  ball- 
room, &c.  Dear  graudtnama,  I  should  certainly  die  of  ennui, 
if  it  were  not  that  this  Ellen  Bruce  excites  my  curiosity  to 
such  a  degree  :  who  can  she  be  ?  I  suspect  that  she  is  a  natu- 
ral child  of  somebody's,  for  whenever  I  have  asked  any  ques- 
tions about  her  connections,  she  is  evidently  troubled,  and  the 
people  of  the  house  affect  to  be  quite  ignorant  of  her  parent- 
age, and  in  reply  to  my  inquiries,  simply  say,  that  she  came 


REDWOOD.  ]  09 

from  a  distant  part  of  the  country :  she  is  here  with  an  old 
woman  by  the  name  of  Allen,  to  whom  she  is  devoted :  she  is 
an  intimate  friend  of  Mrs.  Lenox,  and  not  a  relation  of  either  ; 
and  to  confess  the  truth,  she  is,  as  papa  says,  of  a  style  quite 
superior  to  them.  She  is  an  orphan,  and  without  fortune  ;  so 
much  the  Lenoxes  have  condescended  to  tell  me ;  without  for- 
tune, and  yet  her  dress  is  of  the  finest  materials ;  not  exactly 
fashionable,  as  I  said  to  papa :  he  replied,  '  but  a  model  for 
fashion,  Caroline.'  Papa  has  stitch  a  way  of  putting  one  down. 

"  One  circumstance  has  excited  my  curiosity  particularly : 
she  rises  every  morning  at  the  dawn  of  day,  and  sallies  out, 
and  does  not  return  till  the  old  woman  is  ready  to  rise,  which 
is  our  breakfast  hour,  (papa's  and  mine  ;)  and  then  papa,  from 
great  consideration  for  the  trouble  of  the  Lenoxes,  begs  Miss 
Bruce  will  do  us  the  favor  to  sit  at  our  table.  On  these  occa- 
sions she  departs  from  her  customary  pensive  style,  her  com- 
plexion, usually  of  the  pale  order,  is  quite  brilliant,  and  her 
manner  and  conversation  animated.  Papa,  very  innocently, 
imputes  all  this  to  the  benefit  of  morning  exercise,  and  I  as 
innocently,  on  one  occasion,  proposed  to  be  her  companion,  an 
honor  she  politely  declined  without  assigning  any  reason, 
though  she  has  repeatedly  offered  to  show  me  the  pleasant 
walks  in  the  neighborhood. 

"  She  expresses  the  greatest  impatience  to  have  Mrs.  Allen 
well  enough  to  return  to  her  own  residence  ;  but  this,  I  think, 
is  mere  affectation  :  and  in  this  guessing,  calculating,  conclud- 
ing country,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  if  heaven  does 
not  speed  the  old  woman's  recovery,  or  the  Lenox  match,  or 
some  other  insuperable  obstacle,  she  and  papa  will  get  up  a 
sentimental  affair  of  it.  A  sentimental  affair !  papa  fifty,  and 
Miss  Bruce  nineteen  or  twenty:  stranger  things  have  happened 
— you  remember  my  two  old  fools  of  lovers,  who  were  well  nigh 


110  REDWOOD. 

fifty ;  they,  it  is  true,  were  neither  ill  nor  dull,  like  papa ;  but 
then  Miss  Bruce  has  neither  fortune  nor  beauty ;  at  least,  I 
am  sure  you  would  not  call  her  beautiful — who  can  she  be, 
grandmama  1  Papa  says  she  has  received  a  first-rate  educa- 
tion ;  but  that  is  according  to  his  queer,  old-fashioned  notions. 
She  plays  upon  no  instrument,  and  is  not  fond  of  dancing ;  of 
course  you  know  she  cannot  dance  well.  As  to  French,  she 
does  not  speak  it  at  all,  though  papa  says  she  is  quite  familiar 
with  French  and  Italian  authors,  and  she  and  papa  talk  over 
Racine  and  Ariosto,  and  the  Lord  knows  what  all,  at  our  inte- 
resting dejeuners,  which  I  am  resolved  to  break  up  as  soon  as  I 
have  ascertained  the  object  of  the  long  morning  walks  that 
precede  them.  Write  to  me,  dear  grandmama,  and  direct  to 
this  place,  and  do  not  fail  to  let  me  know  whether  papa  has  the 
control  of  my  fortune,  so  that  if  I  should  marry  contrary  to  his 
wishes,  he  could  deprive  me  of  it:  and  pray  ask  Le  Moine, 
whether  the  blue  trimming  was  intended  for  the  white  or  the 
brown  dress ;  Lilly  has  forgotten,  and  I  am  quite  at  a  loss 
about  it.  By  the  way,  if  poor  Sarah  should  die,  as  you  expect, 
before  I  return,  don't  mention  it  in  your  letters,  for  I  want  a 
good  excuse  for  not  putting  on  black — which  would  be  horrible  ; 
as  Maria  Crayton  says  there  is  not  a  mantuamaker  in  New 
England  that  can  make  a  dress  fit  for  a  Christian  to  wear,  and 
besides,  you  know  one  can  have  no  variety  in  black.  I  cannot 
imagine  where  Miss  Bruce  has  her  dresses  made ;  they  are 
plain  enough,  but  they  sit  exquisitely.  Farewell,  dear  grand- 
mama,  I  shall  give  you  the  earliest  notice  of  any  discoveries  I 
may  make. 

"  Postscript. — Thank  heaven !  papa  has  just  given  me  leave 
to  write  to  Mrs.  Westall  to  come  to  Eaton  with  Charles,  so  that 
I  have  a  prospect  of  seeing  two  civilized  beings,  who  will  proba- 
bly think  me  quite  equal  to  this  prodigy.  Ellen  Bruce :  and  I 


REDWOOD.  Ill 

do  not  despair  of  finding  a  tolerable  cavalier  pro  tern,  in  Charles 
Westall ;  though  I  think  he  will  scarcely  drive  Fitzgerald  out 
of  my  head  or  heart." 

As  curiosity  is  in  its  nature  infectious,  our  readers  may 
possibly  have  caught  Miss  Redwood's  desire  to  know  something 
more  of  Ellen  Bruce's  history  than  has  yet  been  disclosed  to 
them,  and  to  gratify  this  inclination  they  may  be  willing  to 
attend  to  a  sketch  of  some  other  persons,  with  whose  history 
hers  is  inextricably  interwoven. 

When  "  Mother  Anne,"  the  founder  of  the  Shaker  commu- 
nity, came  from  England  to  this  country,  the  Allen  family, 
who  then  resided  in  the  western  part  of  Massachusetts,  were, 
with  the  •  exception  of  the  elder  Mrs.  Allen,  for  a  time  under 
her  dominion.  After  a  few  weeks  of  wild  fanaticism  they 
returned  to  their  ordinary  life,  lamenting  or  deriding  their  delu- 
sion. Susan  Allen,  the  youngest  child,  alone  remained  con- 
stant to  her  new  faith,  which  she  had  been  the  last  to  adopt, 
and  which  was  endeared  to  her  by  the  costliest  sacrifice  a  wo- 
man can  make.  Her  brother,  Justyn  Allen,  soon  after  removed 
to  a  town,  which  we  take  the  liberty  to  call  Lansdown,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Boston.  A  few  years  after,  his  wife  returned 
from  a  visit  to  her  native  place,  bringing  with  her  an  infant  girl, 
the  child,  as  she  said,  of  a  young  friend  of  hers,  who  had  died 
within  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  and  had  bequeathed  the 
child  to  her.  As  no  one  in  Lansdown  knew  Mrs.  Allen's  early 
connections,  the  busy,  questioning  spirit  of  village  curiosity  was 
not  excited  to  inquiry  or  suspicion.  Mrs.  Allen  was  a  woman 
who  walked  straight  forward  in  the  direct  line  of  duty — sim- 
ple in  her  manners,  and  ingenuous  in  her  conduct ;  there  was 
nothing  about  her  to  invite  curiosity.  From  the  time  the  child, 
Ellen  Bruce,  could  comprehend  any  thing.  Mrs.  Allen  had  been 


112  REDWOOD. 

in  the  habit  of  talking  to  her  of  her  mother.  But  in  spite  of 
her  efforts  it  was  always  in  a  sad  tone  ;  and  once  the  child  in- 
terrupted her  to  ask,  "  was  not  my  mother  good  ?"  "  Yes,  my 
love,  perfectly  good."  "  Well,  then,  is  she  not  glad  to  be  in 
such  a  place  as  heaven  is  ?"  "  Yes,  I  believe  so."  "  You  need 
not  look  so  sorry,  then,  when  you  are  talking  about  her." 

Mrs.  Allen  felt  the  propriety  of  the  child's  rebuke ;  but  be- 
sides that  it  is  always  grievous  to  see  a  bud  so  early  torn  from 
its  parent  stock,  there  were  bitter  recollections  associated  with  the 
memory  of  Ellen's  mother,  and  especially  with  her  death,  that 
clouded  Mrs.  Allen's  brow  whenever  she  spoke  of  her.  She 
did,  however,  in  compliance  with  the  last  injunction  of  the  un- 
fortunate mother,  faithfully  endeavor  to  inspire  the  child  with 
a  love  for  her — to  make  hope  take  the  place  of  memory ;  and 
by  constantly  cherishing  the  expectation  of  a  reunion  to  her 
mother,  she  preserved  in  its  strength  the  filial  bond.  It  is  only 
when  our  human  affections  are  consecrated  by  a  belief  in  their 
perpetuity,  that  they  can  have  their  perfect  influence  on  the 
character.  Ellen  experienced  the  holy  ministration  of  which 
they  are  capable  from  her  earliest  years.  Before  she  reasoned, 
she  felt  a  relation  to  heaven ;  her  affections  were  set  on  things 
above.  This  shielded  her  innocence,  a*hd  gave  a  tenderness 
and  elevation  to  her  character,  as  if  the  terrestrial  had  already 
put  on  the  celestial.  The  natural  gayety  of  childhood,  though 
sometimes  intermitted,  was  not  impaired.  Her  eyes,  it  is  true, 
were  tearful  while  she  sat  on  her  little  bench  at  Mrs.  Allen's 
feet,  and  listened  to  stories  of  her  mother  ;  but  the  next  mo- 
ment she  was  playing  with  her  kitten,  or  bounding  away  in 
pursuit  of  a  butterfly — so  natural  is  it  for  the  opening  flower 
to  shrink  from  a  chilling  influence,  and  turn  to  the  sunbeams. 

Ellen  had  been  told  by  Mrs.  Allen  that  she  had  no  father ; 
and  whenever  the  child's  interest  was  excited  about  hiui,  (which 


REDWOOD,  113 

was  not  often,  as  Mrs.  Allen  studiously  avoided  all  mention  of 
him,)  the  answers  to  her  inquiries  were  discreetly  framed  to 
lull  her  curiosity,  without  communicating  the  least  information. 
The  impression  she  received,  was,  that  he  had  died  at  nearly 
the  same  time  with  her  mother. 

Her  childhood  glided  on  to  her  fifth  year,  bright  as  a  cloud- 
less morning,  when  an  event  occurred,  that  produced  a  great 
sensation  in  Lansdown,  and  materially  affected  the  character 
and  destiny  of  our  heroine. 

There  was  an  estate  adjoining  Allen's,  which  from  time  im- 
memorial (a  period  that  in  our  young  country  may  mean  half 
a  century)  had  belonged  to  the  Harrisons,  a  family  residing  in 
Boston.  It  had  the  usual  fate  of  the  property  of  absentees — 
the  house  was  out  of  repair,  the  fences  in  a  ruinous  condition, 
and  the  land  from  year  to  year  depreciating  from  thriftless 
husbandry. 

Allen  had  gone  on  in  the  usual  way,  buying  more  cattle  to 
graze  his  land,  and  more  land  to  feed  his  cattle,  till  smitten 
with  a  desire  to  enlarge  his  territory,  (the  ruling  passion  of  our 
farmers,  each  one  of  whom  is  said  to  covet  all  the  land  adjoin- 
ing his  own,)  he  cast  his  longing  eyes  on  the  Harrison  farm, 
and  easily  persuaded  himself  there  were  good  reasons  in  the 
nature  of  things  why  it  should  be  united  to  his  own.  Both 
farms  lay  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile  from  the  village.  Al- 
len's was  on  an  eminence,  and  divided  from  the  Harrison  estate 
by  a  small  stream,  whose  annual  overflowing  enriched  the  low- 
lands of  his  neighbor,  without  reaching  to  the  elevation  of  his ; 
with  every  rain  the  cream  of  his  soil  trickled  down  to  his  neigh- 
bor's, and  the  droughts  that  seared  his  fields  left  his  neighbor's 
smiling  in  their  verdant  prosperity.  Still  the  hand  of  the  dil- 
igent, busy  on  Allen's  farm,  amply  compensated  for  this  natu- 
ral disparity :  and  when  he  realized  the  profits  of  his  labor, 


114  REDWOOD. 

his  hankering  after  the  facilities  of  the  adjoining  property 
increased  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  sent  to  the  proprietor  a  pro- 
position for  the  purchase  of  it,  by  one  of  his  townsmen,  a 
member  of  the  State  Legislature.  Mr.  Robert  Harrison,  the 
representative  of  his  family,  received  the  proposition  with  in- 
dignation, and  failed  not  to  express  his  surprise  that  any  one 
should  presume  to  think  he  would  part  with  a,  family  estate. 
The  honorable  member,  who  was  one  of  the  numerous  Cincin- 
natuses  of  our  country,  called  from  the  plough  to  patriotic 
duties,  felt  his  new-made  honors  touched  by  this  reflection  on 
one  of  his  constituents,  and  he  replied,  as  to  '  family  estate, 
that  was  an  old  joke  ;  that  one  family  was  as  good  as  another 
now  adays,  and  that  for  his  part,  he  must  say,  it  was  his 
humble  opinion,  that  no  family  could  be  any  honor  to  an  estate, 
and  no  estate  to  a  family,  when  it  was  left  in  such  a  condition 
as  the  Harrison  farm  at  Lansdown.'  The  member's  humble 
opinion  stung  the  family  pride  of  Mr.  Robert  Harrison ;  and 
from  that  moment  he  meditated  a  removal  to  the  neglected 
farm,  which,  in  the  pride  of  hi:,  heart,  he  loved  to  call  the  fam- 
ily estate.  Many  circumstances  strengthened  his  resolution. 
At  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolutionary  war,  Robert  Harri- 
son had  just  attained  his  majority,  and  entered  into  the  pos- 
session of  a  large  fortune,  with  the  expectation  of  succeeding  to 
the  honors  of  the  provincial  government,  which  his  father  had 
always  enjoyed.  Robert  Harrison  was  allied  to  some  noble 
families  in  the  mother  country,  an  important  circumstance  in 
the  estimation  of  the  untitled  gentry  of  the  colony.  Possess- 
ing fortune,  the  favors  of  the  government,  and  the  distinctions 
of  rank,  and  priding  himself  on  the  unstained  loyalty  of  his 
ancestors,  young  Harrison  naturally  sided  with  the  Tory  party. 
He  had  every  thing  to  lose,  and  nothing  to  gain  for  himself 
from  a  change  of  government ;  and  as  to  the  rights  of  the  peo- 


REDWOOD.  115 

pie,  which  were  the  subject  of  contest,  he  held  them  in  too 
great  contempt  to  acknowledge  they  had  any  rights.  Harri- 
son, however  blind  he  might  be  to  the  principle  of  natural  jus- 
tice, was  soon  obliged  to  feel  that  "  might  makes  right,"  and 
he,  with  many  other  stanch  friends  of  the  government,  in 
danger  of  being  swept  away  by  the  tide  of  republicanism, 
sought  a  shelter  in  the  mother  country.  There  he  soon  after 
married  a  young  lady,  a  Bostonian  by  birth,  who  had  been  sent 
home,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  most  wealthy  gentry  in 
the  colony,  for  her  education.  Similarity  of  opinion  and  of 
fortunes  had  united  Robert  Harrison  to  her  father's  family, 
and  governed  more  by  the  accidents  of  their  condition,  than 
by  any  congeniality  of  character,  she  married  him.  Mrs.  Har- 
rison, from  the  age  of  thirteen  to  nineteen,  immured  in  a  board- 
ing-school, came  forth  from  it  as  ignorant  of  the  motley  mass 
called  the  world,  as  if  she  had  been  bred  in  a  convent.  Hap- 
pily, her  education  had  been  conducted  by  a  superior  woman, 
who,  proud  of  her  pupil's  extraordinary  powers,  had  added  to 
the  common  routine  of  boarding-school  accomplishments  judi- 
cious intellectual  cultivation :  so  that  even  at  this  period,  when 
a  well-informed  woman  is  neither  a  monster  nor  a  prodigy,  Mrs. 
Harrison  would  have  been  distinguished  for  her  mental  attain* 
ments.  The  exact  habits  of  her  school  had  given  a  precise- 
ness  to  her  manners,  that  veiled  the  warmth  of  her  feelings, 
but  never  was  there  a  more  generous  and  tender  spirit  than 
she  possessed. 

Robert  Harrison  was  a  handsome  man,  well  bred  in  con- 
ventional manners,  which  passed  for  much  more  than  they 
were  worth  in  our  provincial  days ;  he  was  the  object  of  her 
parents'  partiality,  and  the  first  suitor  for  her  favor :  and,  view- 
ing him  through  the  prismatic  medium  of  romantic  expectation 
and  youthful  fancy,  it  was  not  strange  that  she  loved,  or  be- 


116  REDWOOD. 

lieved  she  loved  him.  Perhaps  she  was  not  herself  conscious 
of  the  capacity  of  her  affections,  till  the  energies  of  maternal 
love  were  awakened  by  the  birth  of  a  child.  This  child,  a  girl, 
lived  but  five  years ;  and  when  she  died,  her  mother  resigned 
her,  as  she  would  have  done  her  own  soul  if  it  had  been  de- 
manded, with  unquestioning  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  the  dispen- 
sation. But  she  never  recovered  her  former  spirits,  though  her 
mind,  too  active  to  remain  the  passive  prey  of  grief,  still  press- 
ed forward  in  the  pursuit  of  some  new  attainment.  She  seem- 
ed to  love  knowledge  for  its  own  sake ;  her  husband  took  no 
part  nor  interest  in  her  pursuits,  and  as  to  the  gratification  of 
vanity  in  display,  for  that  she  had  neither  opportunity  nor  in- 
clination. 

The  family  remained  in  England  till  the  peace  in  1783, 
when  they  returned  to  this  country,  with  their  English  affections 
and  prejudices  strengthened  by  habit,  and  endeared  by  the  pri- 
vations they  had  suffered  on  account  of  their  loyalty.  Mr.  Harri- 
son claimed  his  patrimonial  estate,  and  found,  to  his  bitter  dis- 
appointment, that  those  persons  who  had  been  designated  by 
name  in  the  act  of  confiscation  were  excepted  in  the  repeal  of 
that  act,  and  it  was  not  his  least  mortification  in  finding  him- 
self one  of  this  unfortunate  number,  that  his  property  had  gone 
to  the  support  of  a  cause  which  he  detested.  The  estate  at 
Lansdown, — his  household  furniture  and  plate,  and  some  per* 
sonal  property,  he  saved  from  the  wreck  of  his  fortune.  This 
was  a  small  portion  of  his  rich  inheritance ;  but  skilfully 
managed  by  the  domestic  talents  of  Mrs.  Harrison,  it  was  suf- 
ficient for  the  limited  expenses  of  a  small  establishment.  His 
diminished  fortune  did  not  at  all  degrade  his  rank  in  his  native 
townvfor  if  some  portions  of  our  country  must  sustain  the  re- 
proach of  paying  undue  deference  to  the  vulgar  aristocracy  of 
wealth,  that  part  of  it  has  always  been  exempt  from  this  com- 


REDWOOD.  117 

mon  fault  of  a  commercial  country.  Neither  did  his  English 
feelings  render  him  less  acceptable  in  the  society  of  Boston ; 
the  first  to  prove  a  rebel  child,  she  never  lost  in  her  resistance 
of  authority,  her  love  for  the  parent  land. 

But  Mr.  Harrison  had  not  magnanimity  of  mind  to  enjoy 
the  advantages  that  remained  to  him.  He  was  perpetually 
harassed  by  seeing  those  who  had  been  distinguished  in  their 
country's  service,  or  diligent  in  the  avenues  of  business  which 
had  been  recently  opened,  arriving  at  wealth  and  honors  which 
he  looked  upon  as  the  exclusive  right — the  birthright  of  the 
higher  orders.  The  higher  orders  had  sunk  to  the  uniform 
level  of  republicanism,  to  what  Mr.  Harrison  was  fond  of  call- 
ing, a  church-yard  equality ;  "there  even,  he  was  hardly  willing 
the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  should  meet  toge- 
ther. Not  all  the  courtesies  and  kindness  of  a  cultivated  and 
virtuous  society  could  compensate  Mr.  Harrison  for  the  mor- 
tification of  seeing  the  mansion-house  of  his  family  in  the  pos- 
session of  one  of  the  mushroom  gentry — an  appellation  he 
freely  bestowed  on  every  name  not  noted  under  the  provincial 
government,  and  entitled  to  no  more  credit  or  honor  in  his 
eyes,  than  a  parchment  deed  without  the  crown  stamp. 

The  years  rolled  heavily  on ;  Mrs.  Harrison's  parents  had 
been  gathered  to  their  fathers,  and  independent  in  her  pursuits, 
and  active  in  her  habits,  her  life  passed  without  discontent  or 
ennui.  When  her  husband  proposed  their  removal  to  Lans- 
down,  she  acquiesced  willingly,  in  the  hope  that  he  would  be- 
come interested  in  the  little  concerns  of  his  farm,  and  forget 
the  trifling  vexations  that  in  Boston  disturbed  his  peace. 
Confirmed  in  his  wishes  by  his  wife,  who  exercised  a  discreet, 
and  therefore  an  insensible  influence  over  him,  Mr.  Harrison 
vested  his  property  in  an  annuity  in  the  British  funds,  and 
removed  to  Lansdown.  This  new  arrangement  of  his  pecuni- 


118 


REDWOOD. 


ary  affairs  afforded  him  a  larger  income  than  he  had  enjoyed 
for  a  long  time,  and  enabled  him  to  restore  the  place  at  Lans- 
down to  its  primitive  order  and  dignity.  The  house  was  newly 
painted,  the  fences  rebuilt,  and  the  garden  restocked  with  fruit- 
trees  and  plants. 

Mrs.  Harrison  gently  remonstrated  against  the  removal  of 
the  antique  and  ponderous  furniture,  and  even  hazarded  the 
profane  suggestion  that  it  would  be  wise  to  dispose  of  it  at 
auction,  and  to  procure  that  which  would  be  more  adapted  to 
their  present  fortune,  and  in  better  keeping  with  the  simplicity 
of  country  life,  and  which  would  neither  expose  them  to  the 
sneers  nor  envy  of  their -neighbors. 

"  Neighbors  !"  replied  the  irritated  husband,  "  I  wish  you 
to  understand  once  for  all,  Mrs.  Harrison,  that  I  mean  to  have 
no  neighbors.  The  people  of  Lansdown  remember  the  habits 
of  the  family  too  well  to  presume  to  associate  with  us.  As  to 
the  furniture,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  about  that,  and  you 
know  my  mind,  once  made  up,  is  not  given  to  change ;  there- 
fore, Mrs.  Harrison,  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  order  every  arti- 
cle of  our  furniture,  large  and  small,  packed  up  with  the  great- 
est possible  care."  Mrs.  Harrison  reserved  all  her  opposition 
to  her  husband  for  matters  that  she  deemed  important ;  the 
furniture  was  packed,  and  arranged  at  Lansdown  with  her  best 
skill :  and  there  Mr  Harrison  surveyed,  with  infinite  compla- 
cfcncy,  the  Turkey  carpets,  damask  curtains  and  sofas,  the  cum- 
brous mahogany  chairs,  and  family  plate  studiously  arranged 
in  an  old-fashioned  buffet  with  glass  doors,  and  the  loyal  gar- 
nishing of  the  walls  decorated  with  approved  likenesses  of  their 
majesties  and  their  hopeful  offspring,  and  with  proof  prints  of 
the  royal  parks  and  palaces.  Mrs.  Harrison,  though  she  could 
but  smile  at  this  parade  of  the  relics  of  their  departed  wealth 
and  grandeur,  took  a  benevolent  pleasure  in  ministering  to  the 


REDWOOD.  1 19 

gratification  of  her  husband ;  and  when  she  left  him  in  the 
parlor  still  gazing  on  the  memorials  of  patrimonial  splendor, 
and  retired  to  arrange  in  a  small  apartment  adjoining  her  bed- 
room (in  which  were  her  books  and  drawing  materials)  some 
choice  or  favorite  plants :  '  we  must  both,'  she  thought,  '  have 
our  playthings.  If  you  had  lived,  my  sweet  Mary,'  she  said, 
turning  her  eye  on  a  beautiful  picture  of  her  child,  that  hung  at 
the  foot  of  her  bed,  'we  might  have  had  occupation  that  would 
have  saved  us  from  thus  prolonging  our  childhood.'  Her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  a  light  footstep,  and  a  beauti- 
ful little  girl  entered  her  apartment  with  a  basket  of  fine  early 
peaches,  which  she  timidly  offered  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  with  Mrs. 
Allen's  respects.  Mrs.  Harrison's  mind  was  at  this  moment 
filled  with  the  image  of  her  child,  and  she  saw,  or  fancied  she 
saw,  a  striking  resemblance  between  the  portrait  and  the  little 
stranger.  She  looked  from  one  to  the  other ;  the  eyes  were  of 
the  same  deep  blue,  there  was  the  same  peculiar,  and  as  she 
thought,  heavenly  grace  of  the  mouth ;  the  hair,  too,  a  light 
and  bright  brown,  fell  in  the  same  natural  curls  over  her  neck 
and  shoulders.  "  Oh,  my  own,  dear  Mary,"  she  exclaimed,  as 
she  placed  the  child  on  her  lap,  and  gazed  on  her,  "  I  can 
almost  fancy  you  are  again  in  my  arms ;  and  yet,"  she  added, 
as  the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes,  "  she  has  not  quite  that  look 
my  Mary  had."  Ellen  Bruce,  (for  it  was  she,)  after  looking  in 
silent  amazement  for  a  few  moments  at  Mrs.  Harrison,  said, 
"  I  wish  I  was  your  Mary,  and  then  you  would  not  be  so 
sorry." 

"  Sweet  child,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Harrison,  wiping  away  her 
tears,  and  smiling  on  her,  "  and  who  are  you — who.  is  your 
mother  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  live  with  my  mother,  she  lives  in  heaven,  Mrs. 
Allen  says." 


120  REDWOOD. 

"  Who  then  do  you  live  with,  my  love  ?" 

"  I  live  with  our  little  Emily's  mother." 

"  And  who  is  she  ?" 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Allen  ;  did  not  you  know  that  she  had  little 
twin  babies  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear  child  ;  but  if  you  will  show  me  the  way  to 
Mrs.  Allen's,  I  will  go  with  you  and  see  her ;"  so  saying,  she 
threw  on  her  hat  and  shawl,  and  was  descending  the  stairs 
with  the  little  girl,  when  she  met  her  husband  in  quest  of  her. 
"  My  dear,"  said  he,  snapping  his  fingers,  and  speaking  in  an 
unusually  animated  tone,  "here  is  an  English  paper — and 
glorious  news.  The  English  have  gained  a  complete  victory : 
thank  God  !  that  cowardly  rascal  Bonaparte  is  beaten  at  last." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Harrison,  turning  from 
him  to  pursue  her  first  intention. 

"  Glad  of  it !  Pshaw,  is  that  all — what  is  the  matter — 
where  are  you  going  ?  here  are  all  the  particulars  ;  the  number 
engaged,  the  names  of  the  officers,  a  list  of  the  killed,  wounded 
and  prisoners:  everything  most 'satisfactory;  none  of  your 
lying  French  bulletins,  but  English — fair  John  Bull  style; 
every  word  true — true  as  the  gospel." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  repeated  Mrs.  Harrison,  "  I  will 
read  it  the  moment  I  return  from  leading  this  little  girl  home  ; 
she  has  brought  us  some  delicious  peaches  from  one  of  our 
neighbors." 

"  Send  one  of  the  servants  with  her ;  I  am  impatient  to 
hear  you  read  these  accounts  ;  there  are  many  private  letters 
from  the  officers  that  were  in  the  action,  and  besides,"  he  add- 
ed, lowering  his  voice,  "  the  people  about  us  are  quite  too 
much  inclined  to  familiarity  already.  I  do  not  wish  you  io 
encourage  them.  Here  Betsey,"  he  vociferated  to  the  servant 
girl,  "  lead  this  child  home." 


REDWOOD  f  121 

Mrs.  Harrison  led  Ellen  to  the  door,  and  kissing  and  beg- 
ging her  to  come  again  to  see  her,  she  transferred  her  to  the 
care  of  the  servant,  and  returned  to  soothe  her  husband  with 
all  the  interest  she  could  command  in  the  details  of  the 
victory. 

Ellen  Bruce  had  received  such  various  and  confused  im- 
pressions during  her  short  visit  to  the  mansion-house  that  she 
was  unable  to  give  a  clear  report  of  it  to  Mrs.  Allen,  and,  as 
the  child  brought  no  word  of  acknowledgment  for  the  peaches, 
Mrs.  Allen  naturally  concluded  that  her  first  neighborly  over- 
tures were  unkindly  taken  ;  her  husband  completed  her  mor- 
tification by  asking  her,  "  how  she  could  make  such  a  mistake 
as  to  suppose  that  the  duke  (a  title  already  bestowed  on  Mr. 
Harrison  by  his  republican  neighbors)  could  eat  fruit  that  did 
not  grow  on  the  '  family  estate  ?'  " 

Mrs.  Allen,  with  all  her  good  sense,  was  not  quite  free 
from  the  jealous  pride  that  pervades  her  class  in  New  Eng- 
land :  she  resolved  not  to  waste  her  courtesies  upon  those 
who  disdained  them ;  and  when  Ellen,  calling  to  mind  Mrs. 
Harrison's  invitation  to  her,  begged  leave  to  carry  her  some 
more  peaches,  Mrs.  Allen  said,  "  no !  if  the  peaches  were 
worth  sending,  they  were  worth  thanking  for."  Ellen  rather 
felt  than  understood  the  reply,  and  she  answered,  "but  I  am 
sure  the  lady  spoke  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Ah,  yes,  my  dear,  that  is  an  easy  matter,  every  body 
speaks  kind  to  you  ;  it  is  not  necessary  to  force  you  upon  any 
one's  notice  ;  when  Mrs.  Harrison  sends  for  you,  it  will  be 
time  enough  for  you  to  go  to  her."  Ellen  had  no  purpose  of 
disobedience,  but  surprised  at  the  unwonted  strictness  of  Mrs. 
Allen,  she  determined  to  lay  aside  all  the  peaches  that  were 
given  to  her  for  the  lady,  whose  kind  manner  to  her  had  made 
a  deep  impression. 


122  REDWOOD. 

In  the  meantime,  Mrs.  Harrison  possessed  herself  of  all 
that  was  known  in  the  village  of  Ellen  Bruce's  brief  history  ; 
and  the  whole  amount  of  it  was  that  she  was  the  orphan  child 
of  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Allen's,  and  had  been  adopted  in  her  infancy 
by  that  excellent  woman,  and  treated  with  maternal  kindness. 
1  Oh,  had  Providence  destined  her  to  my  protection,  what  a 
solace,  what  a  delight  she  would  have  been  to  me,'  thought 
Mrs.  Harrison  :  '  and  even  now,  could  I  persuade  my  husband 
to  indulge  me  in  going  to  the  Aliens,  I  might  obtain  this  little 
creature  to  lighten  some  of  my  heavy  hours.'  She  determined 
to  watch  for  some  propitious  moment  before  she  ventured  to 
explain  her  wishes  :  a  happy  accident  might  throw  the  child 
again  in  her  way,  and  such  an  accident  she  thought  had  occur- 
red, when,  a  few  days  after  the  first  interview,  as  she  was  walk- 
ing with  her  husband  past  Mrs.  Allen's,  she  saw  the  child  come 
bounding  towards  her  with  her  apron  full  of  peaches. 

"  Oh,  how  glad  I  am,"  said  she,  on  coming  up  to  Mrs.  Har- 
rison, her  eyes  sparkling,  and  her  cheeks  glowing  ;  "  here,  take 
them  all,  they  are  mine,  and  I  saved  them  all  for  you."  "  For 
me,"  replied  Mrs.  Harrison,  kissing  her,  "  and  for  this  gen- 
tleman ?" 

"  For  the  duke  !  oh  no,"  replied  little  Ellen,  with  fatal 
simplicity ;  "  Mr.  Allen  says  the  duke  will  not  eat  our 
peaches." 

"  What,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harrison,  "  does  the  little  impu- 
dent baggage  mean  by  calling  me  the  duke  ?" 

"  Every  body  calls  him  that  name,"  said  Ellen,  lowering 
her  voice,  and  drawing  closer  to  Mrs.  Harrison 

"  Never  mind,  my  love,"  whispered  Mrs.  Harrison,  while 
she  kissed  her,  "  run  home,  and  do  come  very  soon  to  see  me." 
Then  turning  to  her  husband,  she  said,  "  I  declare  our  neigh- 
bors are  half  right ;  you  have  quite  a  look  of  nobility,  my  dear 


REDWOOD.  123 

husband  ;  you  might  pass  in  more  knowing  eyes  than  theirs 
for  a  peer  of  the  realm :  to  say  nothing  of  a  certain  dignity 
that  belongs  to  the  born  gentleman,  your  gold-headed  cane, 
your  powdered  head,  and  antique  buckles  give  you  an  air  that 
must  be  quite  provoking  to  our  republican  neighbors."  "  Ah, 
indeed,  I  believe  it,  Mrs.  Harrison  :  but  our  neighbors,  as  you 
call  them,  mean  no  compliment ;  this  is  a  mere  mockery  on 
their  lips."  "  Oh  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Harrison,  "  I  suppose  so : 
that  is  to  say,  it  is  a  jocular  title  they  have  given  you,  to  eon- 
sole  themselves  for  your  superiority." 

"  Very  likely,  very  likely,"  replied  the  husband,  and  then 
added,  "  I  think,  Mrs.  Harrison,  my  dear,  that  you  must  be 
convinced  by  this  time  that  the  less  you  have  to  do  with  these 
people  the  better."  Mrs.  Harrison  made  no  reply  ;  she  usu- 
ally conformed  to  the  spirit  of  the  promise  contained  in  the 
Dutch  marriage  service,  maintaining  silence  in  the  presence  of 
her  husband  ;  it  was  the  least  difficult  expression  of  acquies- 
cence, and  long  habit  had  given  her  a  facility  in  this  extraordi- 
nary virtue. 

The  weeks  passed  on,  autumn  succeeded  to  summer,  and 
Mrs.  Harrison  seemed  farther  than  ever  from  procuring  an 
intercourse  with  little  Ellen.  During  the  warm  weather  she 
had  occasionally  seen  her  bounding  over  the  field  with  the  elas- 
tic step  of  joyous  childhood,  but  now  her  careful  guardian  kept 
her  cautiously  within  doors. 

It  was  a  cold  night,  the  last  of  November ;  Mrs.  Harrison's 
household  was  all  in  bed  except  herself,  and  she,  insensible  to 
the  blasts  that  howled  about  her  dwelling,  was  poring  over  an 
interesting  book,  when  she  was  reminded  of  the  lateness  of 
the  hour  by  the  candle  sinking  into  the  socket.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  bright  light  flashed  through  the  window  and  shone 
on  the  opposite  wall ;  she  hastened  to  the  window  to  ascertain 


124  REDWOOD. 

the  cause,  and  screamed,  "  Oh  heavens  !  Allen's  house  is  on 
fire."  Her  shriek  aroused  her  husband,  who  exclaimed,  "  Lord 
bless  me,  is  it  possible  !  call  the  servants,  my  dear,  and  send 
them  to  help  the  poor  folks.'* 

Mrs.  Harrison,  without  awaiting  this  direction,  had  has- 
tened to  awaken  the  servants :  and  then  rushed  out  of  the 
house  herself,  and  proceeded  with  all  possible  speed  to  the 
Aliens,  full  of  the  horrible  apprehension  that  the  family 
would  be  consumed  by  the  flames.  The  bright  light  clearly 
defined  every  object ;  the  naked  branches  of  the  trees,  every 
twig,  every  withered  leaf  she  saw  plainly,  but  heard  no  human 
voice,  nor,  saw  a  moving  form.  Avoiding  the  public  road, 
which  was  circuitous,  she  proceeded  in  a  straight  line  across 
the  fields,  surmounted  the  fences  almost  unconsciously,  and 
passed  through  the  shallow  stream  that  divided  the  farms. 
She  was  within  a  few  yards  of  the  house,  the  fowls  roused  from 
their  roost  were  crowing,  and  the  pigeons  startled  from  their 
nestling-place  were  fluttering  over  the  flames  :  still  none  of  the 
family  appeared.  She  screamed  with  all  the  power  of  her 
voice,  while  she  hastened  onward,  despairing  of  the  lives  of  the 
unfortunate  family.  The  back  part  of  the  house,  which  she 
had  approached,  was  enveloped  in  flames  ;  she  passed  around 
to  the  front,  and  at  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Allen 
and  his  wife  with  her  twin  infants  in  her  arms,  rushed,  as  it 
appeared,  from  the  midst  of  the  fire.  Mrs.  JIarrison  caught 
her  arm  as  she  was  passing  her  ;  "  where,"  she  exclaimed,  "  is 
your  child  ?" 

"  My  child  !"  she  replied,  amazed  with  terror.  "  Oh  God  ? 
Ellen — she  is  there  ;  and  hugging  her  children  closer  to  her 
breast,  she  pointed  to  the  flames.  Mrs.  Harrison  looked 
around  for  assistance,  there  was  no  one  near  :  Allen,  stupe- 
fied with  fright,  had  gone  with  a  single  pail  to  a  well  at  some 


REDWOOD.  125 

distance  from  the  house  ;  other  members  of  the  family,  who 
had  escaped  by  different  windows,  were  so  bewildered  with  ter- 
ror as  to  be  incapable  of  rendering  the  slightest  aid.  Mrs. 
Harrison's  resolution  was  instantly  taken  ;  "  tell  me  where  she 
sleeps,"  she  cried,  "  it  may  be  possible  to  reach  her  through  a 
window." 

"  Oh  !  there  is  no  window,  she  is  in  the  dark  room  next 
mine  ;  and  this — this  is  mine,"  she  added,  pointing  to  a  front 
apartment  which  the  flames  had  not  yet  reached.  Mrs.  Har- 
rison darted  forward  and  entered  the  house  ;  the  flames  were 
above  her,  before  her,  around  her.  The  passage  was  so  dark- 
enened  with  smoke  that  she  could  not  perceive  the  door  she 
sought,  but  inspired  with  preternatural  courage,  menaced  with 
death  on  every  side,  already  scorching  with  the  heat,  and  nearly 
suffocated  with  the  smoke,  she  pressed  forward  till  she  reached 
a  passage-way  that  crossed  the  entrance  at  right  angles.  The 
flames  now  burst  through  the  wall  at  the  extremity  opposite 
the  door  she  had  entered,  and  the  air  rushing  in,  rolled  away 
a  volume  of  smoke,  and  discovered  Ellen  standing  at  her  door, 
with  her  hand  still  on  the  latch ;  a  dog  was  crouching  at  her 
feet,  yelping,  pulling  her  night  dress  with  his  teeth,  and  urging 
her  forward  with  the  most  expressive  supplications  :  still,  the 
little  creature  shrunk  from  the  terrors  before  her,  unconscious 
of  the  fatal  risk  of  delay.  Mrs.  Harrison  snatched  her  in  her 
arms,  rushed  through  the  door,  and  in  an  instant  was  at  Mrs. 
Allen's  side.  Both  instinctively  sunk  on  their  knees — no 
sound  escaped  from  them,  but  the  rapture  of  gratitude  was  in 
their  hearts,  and  its  incense  rose  to  Him  who  had  rescued  them 
from  impending  death. 

The  fire  had  been  communicated  from  a  back  building, 
which  was  joined  to  the  front  (recently  erected  by  Allen)  by  a 
narrow  covered  passage.  Fortunately  the  wind,  though  blow- 


126  REDWOOD. 

ing  violently,  was  in  a  direction  to  retard  the  progress  of  the 
flames  :  to  extinguish  them  was  impossible,  for  the  house  was 
of  wood,  and  the  only  fire-engine  in  the  town  was  at  too  great 
a  distance  to  render  any  assistance.  But  had  the  family  been 
self-collected  after  they  were  awakened  by  Mrs.  Harrison's 
screams,  they  might  have  saved  all  the  house  contained  of 
value.  No  one,  however,  seemed  capable  of  a  well-directed 
effort,  till  Roger,  Mrs.  Harrison's  English  servant,  arriving  on 
the  field  of  action,  called  to  Allen  to  follow  him,  and  forcing 
his  way  through  the  window  of  Mrs.  Allen's  apartment,  he 
succeeded  in  clearing  it  of  the  furniture,  and  placing  it  at  a  safe 
distance  from  the  destructive  element.  The  family,  and  the 
few  persons  who  had  come  to  their  aid,  gathered  around  the 
relics  ;  little  Ellen  stood  with  one  hand  in  Mrs.  Harrison's, 
one  arm  lovingly  encircled  the  neck  of  the  faithful  animal  that 
first  broke  her  slumbers  ;  the  whole  group  remained  impotent 
and  silent  spectators,  till  the  house  sunk  a  ruin  under  the  still 
crackling  flames. 

Mrs.  Harrison  first  broke  silence ;  "  I  am  sure,  my  good 
friends,"  said  she,  "  you  are  thinking  more  of  what  is  left  than 
what  is  taken." 

"  Indeed  you  have  guessed  right,  ma'am,"  replied  Allen, 
venting  his  agitated  spirits  in  loud  sobs.  "  The  Lord  that  has 
spared  my  wife  and  little  ones  and  Ellen,  is  welcome  to  all  the 
rest.  If  I  could  but  have  saved  my  Bible  that  my  mother  gave 
me,  and  my  wife's  silver  tankard,  I  would  just  care  no  more 
than  if  it  was  a  bonfire."  The  mention  of  the  excepted  arti- 
cles seemed  to  recall  to  Mrs.  Allen's  mind  something  of  im- 
portance. She  exclaimed,  "  poor  Ellen."  and  looked  anxiously 
around  her,  till  her  eye  falling  on  a  trunk,  she  hastily  opened 
it  and  took  from  it  a  small  box  ;  then  turning  to  her  husband. 
"  God  be  praised,"  she  said,  "  every  thing  of  value  is  saved." 


REDWOOD.  127 

The  first  strong  emotions  of  gratitude  having  been  directed  to 
the  Supreme  Preserver,  they  now  began,  with  one  voice,  to  pour 
out  their  thanks  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  whose  generous  agency  they 
felt  deeply.  She  begged  them  to  defer  all  such  expressions, 
and  urging  the  necessity  of  a  shelter  for  their  little  ones,  she 
insisted  on  their  going  home  with  her.  The  good  farmer  and 
his  wife  forgot  their  scruples  in  their  gratitude  and  necessities  ; 
and  in  a  short  time  they  were  comfortably  housed  at  the  Har- 
rison mansion.  After  Mrs.  Harrison  had  made  every  provi- 
sion for  the  refreshment  and  repose  of  her  guests,  and  after  she 
had  stowed  away  little  Ellen  in  j^room  adjoining  her  own,  and 
extended  her  hospitalities  even  to  the  dog,  her  faithful  coadju- 
tor in  the  preservation  of  the  child,  she  retired  to  her  own 
'room,  nerved  by  gratitude  and  joy,  to  the  task  of  reconciling 
her  husband  to  the  liberties  she  had  taken  with  the  family 
mansion.  So  strikingly  did  she  delineate  the  dangers  and 
escape  of  the  family,  the  risk  she  herself  had  run,  the  rescue 
of  the  child,  and  finally,  the  exertions  of  Koger,  his  truly 
English  coolness  and  intrepidity,  that  Mr.  Harrison  himself 
anticipated  the  conclusion  of  the  story,  by  exclaiming,  "  Lord 
bless  me,  my  dear  !  I  hope  you  brought  the  unfortunate  people 
home  with  you  ?"  "  Certainly,  my  dear,"  she  replied.  "  You 
did  right — perfectly  right.  There  is  no  other  establishment 
in  Lansdown  equal  to  giving  them  all  a  shelter.  But  Martha, 
my  dear,"  he  continued,  "  you  ran  a  great  risk — quite  an  un- 
warrantable risk,  considering  the  relative  importance  of  your 
life  to  that  of  the  child's." 

"  Oh  !  thank  you  for  thinking  my  life  so  important.  I 
only  acted  like  a  dutiful  wife,  and  emulated  your  example. 
You  have  forgotten  at  what  hazard  you  saved  Charles  Lind- 
say's life." 

"  Forgotten  !  no,  my  dear  ;  but  then  you  know  a  man  has 


128  REDWOOD. 

always  more  self-possession  than  a  woman,  more  mind  for  emer- 
gencies, and  besides,  Charles  was  the  sole  heir  of  an  honorable 
family — some  compensation  for  the  risk.  However,  all  is  well 
that  ends  well.  .  You  have  shown  a  spirit  worthy  of  a  noble 
name,  Martha,  my  dear  ;  and  I  shall  take  particular  pleasure 
in  writing  an  account  of  the  whole  affair  to  Sir  Harry  by  the 
next  ship  that  sails  for  London." 

Mrs.  Harrison,  having  thus  succeeded  beyond  her  utmost 
hopes  in  making  a  favorable  impression  on  the  mind  of  her 
husband,  retired  to  rest ;  her  bosom  filled  with  those  sweet 
emotions  that  are  the  peculiar  property  and  rich  reward  of  the 
virtuous.  If  Mrs.  Harrison  felt  any  anxiety  the  succeeding 
day  about  the  intercourse  of  the  host  and  his  guests,  it  was 
removed  when  she  saw  that  the  sense  of  protection  and  con- 
descending kindness  on  the  one  part,  and  of  gratitude  on  the 
other,  produced  a  happy  state  of  feeling  between  the  respec- 
tive parties. 


REDWOOD.  129 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Oh,  'tis  the  curse  of  love  and  still  approved, 
When  women  cannot  love,  when  they're  beloved.'* 

Two  GENTLEMEN  OF  VJRONA. 

IN  the  week  following  the  destruction  of  his  own  house,  Mr. 
Allen  succeeded  in  obtaining  another  for  the  accommodation 
of  his  family  till  the  following  summer.  The  rigors  of  the 
stern  season  then  approaching,  rendering  it  necessary  to  defer 
the  rebuilding  of  his  own,  Mrs.  Harrison  proposed  to  Mrs. 
Allen  to  leave  Ellen  Bruce  at  the  mansion-house  till  she  should 
again  be  re-established  in  her  own  'home.  There  were  such 
obvious  advantages  in  this  arrangement  for  the  child,  Mrs. 
Harrison  pressed  her  request  so  earnestly,  and  Mrs.  Allen  felt 
that  it  would  be  so  ungrateful  to  refuse,  that  she  yielded  her 
own  inclination,  and  left  Ellen  with  her  devoted  friend.  The 
presence  of  this  sweet  child  operated  on  Mrs.  Harrison's  affec- 
tions as  the  first  breaking  out  of  the  sun  after  a  long  series  of 
cloudy  weather  upon  the  physical  constitution.  She  had  been 
resigned  in  afflictions,  patient  under  all  those  often  recurring 
vexations  and  petty  disappointments  that  are  by  general  con- 
sent pronounced  more  trying  to  human  virtue  than  great 
calamities  ;  she  had  endured  for  twenty  years  the  exacting 
consequential  peevish  selfishness  of  a  husband,  in  all  respects 
6* 


1 30  REDWOOD. 

dissimilar  to  herself,  in  most  inferior ;  and  she  had  become 
neither  nervous,  petulant,  nor  selfish.  Indeed  so  successful 
were  her  dutiful  efforts,  that  all  her  acquaintance  deemed  her 
quite  blind  to  her  husband's  faults  ;  and  that  she  was  not, 
never  appeared  except  when,  to  attain  some  good  purpose,  her 
cautious  and  adroit  approaches  to  his  mind  betrayed  that  she 
knew  where  his  prejudices  were  stationed,  and  where  his  pas- 
sions ruled.  If  the  hasty  affections  of  her  youth  had  been 
alienated  by  her  husband's  faults,  their  place  had  been  sup- 
plied by  the  resolution  of  virtue,  and  by  the  tolerance  of  a 
tender  nature  that  felt  more  pity  than  aversion  for  human 
frailty ;  and  finally,  perhaps  she  loved  him  ;  for  neither  her 
words  nor  actions  ever  expressed  that  she  did  not :  if  the 
maidenly  reserve  that  "  never  tells  a  love,"  is  the  poet's  elo- 
quent theme,  the  matronly  virtue  that  conceals  the  want  of  it, 
is  certainly  far  more  deserving  of  the  moralist's  praise. 

Little  Ellen  opened  the  fountain  of  Mrs.  Harrison's  affec- 
tions :  and  such  was  the  renovating  influence  produced  on  her, 
that  her  husband,  who  never  dreamed  whence  it  proceeded, 
remarked  how  prodigiously  the  country  winter  improved  her 
health  and  spirits ;  and  congratulated  himself  upon  his  wise 
decision  to  remove  from  the  chilling  airs  of  the  coast  to  the 
family  estate,  always  noted  for  its  salubrious  situation. 

Every  moment  of  leisure  Mrs.  Harrison  devoted  to  her 
little  favorite.  She  taught  her  every  thing  she  was  capable  of 
receiving  at  the  age  of  five  years,  in  the  way  of  formal  instruc- 
tion. She  was  the  ingenious  mistress,  and  the  partaker  of  her 
innocent  revels.  She  insinuated  moral,  and  it  may  be  added, 
religious  principles  into  her  mind,  in  the  winning  form  of  sto- 
ries She  warred  agafhst  the  natural  selfishness  of  childhood 
in  all  its  specious  forms,  and  she  completely  subdued  an  im- 
petuosity of  temper,  that  had  been  suffered,  if  not  nurtured 


REDWOOD.  131 

by  Mrs.  Allen's  indulgence  :  in  short,  she  seemed  constantly 
to  realize  that  she  had  the  training  of  an  immortal  creature  ; 
and  to  feel  that  so  sweet  a  form  as  Ellen's  should  "  envelope 
and  contain1'  nought  but  "  celestial  spirits." 

Allen  began  with  the  return  of  summer  the  rebuilding  of 
his  house ;  and  assisted  by  the  voluntary  contributions  of  his 
townsmen,  he  soon  completed  it.  The  prompt  benevolence  of 
our  country  people  on  such  occasions  has  been  justly  celebrated 
by  a  foreigner,  an  observer  (perhaps  a  partial  one)  of  our 
manners. 

"  Ici  tous  sont  egaux  :  Pabondance  est  commune, 
On  ignore  les  nonas  de  crime  et  d'infortime 
Si  le  feu,  si  1'orage  a  fait  un  indigent 
La  beinfaisance  accourt ;  c'est  1'effet  d'un  moment." 

The  time  at  length  arrived  for  Mrs.  Allen  to  reclaim  Ellen. 
Mrs.  Harrison  urged  delay  after  delay,  and  was  so  earnestly 
seconded  by  her  husband,  (who  had  been  beguiled  of  his  un- 
comfortable stateliness  by  the  playful  little  creature,)  that  Mrs. 
Allen  finally  consented  to  surrender  her  own  inclinations,  and 
to  make  a  permanent  arrangement  with  Mrs.  Harrison,  which 
should  allow  Ellen  to  pass  half  her  time  at  the  mansion-house. 
In  this  arrangement  there  was  a  system  of  checks  and  balances, 
that  produced  that  singular  and  felicitous  union  of  diversity  of 
qualities  which- constituted  the  rare  perfection  of  Ellen's  cha- 
racter. Mrs.  Harrison  communicated  her  taste  and  skill  in 
drawing,  her  knowledge  of  French  and  Italian,  and  all  those 
arts  of  female  handicraft  that  were  the  fashion  of  her  day. 
Her  pupil  was  taught  curiously  to  explore  the  records  of  his- 
tory, and  to  delight  in  the  creations  of  poetry.  When  she 
might  hnve  been  in  danger  of  an  exclusive  taste  for  the  ele- 
gant occupations  of  those  who  have  the  privilege  of  independ- 


132  REDWOOD. 

ence  and  of  leisure,  she  returned  to  Mrs.  Allen  to  take  her 
lessons  in  practical  life,  to  share  and  lighten  the  domestic  cares 
of  her  good  friend,  and  to  acquire  those  household  arts  that  it 
might  be  the  duty  of  her  station  to  perform,  and  which  it  is 
the  duty  of  every  station  to  understand.  Ellen  might  have 
caught  the  pensiveness  of  Mrs  Harrison's  manner,  with  its 
grace  and  polish :  she  might  have  forgotten  the  active  duties 
of  life  in  listening  with  her  to  the  melody  of  nature — the  mu- 
sic of  the  passing  stream,  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  or  the 
song  of  the  birds,  or  in  watching  the  changeful  forms  of  the 
summer  clouds,  as  their  shadows  dropped  on  the  mountain's 
side,  or  danced  in  frolic  humors  over  the  grassy  fields  and  thick 
standing  corn.  But  for  all  this,  the  danger  of  secluded  life  to 
those  who  possess  sensibility  and  taste,  there  was  an  antidote 
in  the  occupations  of  Mrs.  Allen's  household — the  spell  of 
imagination  was  dispelled  by  the  actual  services  of  life. 

Had  Ellen  been  less  grateful  or  affectionate  in  her  nature, 
she  might  have  loved  one  of  her  guardians  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  other ;  but  she  felt  their  gratuitous  kindness  with  the  sen- 
sibility of  a  truly  generous  mind  ;  she  saw  in  them  the  parents 
that  Providence  had  provided  for  her  orphanage,  and  without 
any  of  the  pride  or  restlessness  of  dependence,  her  devotion 
to  them  both  evinced  her  eager  desire  that  they  should  realize 
the  highest  rewards  of  benevolence. 

Had  her  friends  been  less  excellent  than  they  were,  some 
mischief  might  have  resulted  to  our  heroine  from  the  diversity 
of  their  religious  opinions.  Both  were  Christians  in  faith  and 
experience,  but  Mrs.  Harrison  was  educated  in  the  Episcopal 
church,  and  was  exact  in  all  its  observances  :  and  Mrs.  Allen, 
a  lineal  descendant  of  the  pilgrims,  was  as  rigid  in  her  faith  as 
was  compatible  with  the  mildness  of  her  character.  The  '  na- 
tural enmity'  that  bigots  might  have  found,  or  made,  between 


REDWOOD.  133 

their  respective  faiths,  was  destroyed  by  the  spirit  of  Christi- 
anity, as  it  must  be,  where  that  spirit  bears  rule,  and  the  only 
strife  between  these  noble-minded  women  seemed  to  be,  which 
should  most  sedulously  cultivate  the  religious  principles  in 
their  young  friend.  Mr.  Harrison,  certainly  not  remarkable 
for  his  Christian  graces,  was  scrupulous  in  maintaining  all  the 
appointments  of  the  established  church.  He  never  counte- 
nanced by  his  august  presence  the  worship  of  the  village  meet- 
ing. It  was  one  of  his  favorite  observations,  and  he  uttered 
it  with  the  pomp  of  an  oracle,  that  puritanism  was  the  mother 
of  rebellion.  He  was  gratified  with  Ellen's  respectful  attend- 
ance on  his  reading  of  the  church  service  ;  and  he  noticed 
more  than  once  how  remarkably  well  her  voice  sounded,  in  the 
responses.  He  blamed  his  wife  for  not  making  an  effort  to 
prevent  Ellen's  going  to  the  village  meeting  with  the  Aliens 
during  her  residence  with  them,  which  he  said  she  might  easily 
do,  as  the  girl  certainly  had  sense  enough  to  discern  the  differ- 
ence between  worship  and  talking.  Allen,  too,  dissatisfied 
with  what  he  deemed  his  wife's  lukewarmness,  reproved  her 
for  riot  interposing  her  authority  to  prevent  Ellen  from  '  wast- 
ing the  Sabbath  in  hearing  a  form  of  words  read  over  by  a 
man  that  had  no  more  religion  than  the  Pope,  and  who  all  the 
while  flattered  himself  that  none  but  an  Episcopal  Tory  could 
go  to  heaven.'  Happily  for  the  peace  of  our  heroine,  neither 
of  the  ladies  deemed  it  her  duty  to  interfere  with  the  wishes 
of  the  other ;  and  she  grew  up,  nurtured  in  the  spirit  of  our 
blessed  religion,  without  bigotry  to  any  of  the  forms  with  which 
accident,  pride,  or  prejudice  has  invested  it. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  every  year  found  Ellen  improved  in 
loveliness  :  the  gay  and  reckless  spirit  of  childhood  gave  place 
to  the  vivacity  and  sensitiveness  of  fifteen  Mrs.  Allen  deem- 
ed it  inexpedient  to  delay  longer  to  communicate  to  her  such 


1 34  REDWOOD. 

particulars  of  her  mother's  history  as  she  was  at  liberty  to  im- 
part. It  was  impossible  any  longer  to  evade  her  natural  and 
just  curiosity  on  the  subject,  and  as  she  could  not  for  ever  be 
kept  in  ignorance.  Mrs.  Allen  thought  it  necessary  that  she 
should  begin  to  fortify  her  mind  for  the  evils  that  might  await 
her.  Ellen  received  the  communication  with  a  gentle  submis- 
sion to  the  trials  of  her  lot  that  astonished  both  her  friends, — 
for  Mrs.  Harrison  had  long  been  in  Mrs.  Allen's  confidence — 
she  saw  that  dark  clouds  enveloped  her  ;  still — for  hope  is  the 
element  of  youth — except  in  some  moments  of  fearful  appre- 
hension, she  believed  that  the  clouded  morning  of  her  life 
would  be  followed  by  a  clear  noontide. 

The  progress  of  time  had  wrought  some  changes  in  the 
Allen  family.  Edward,  the  only  son,  had  been  sent  to  Ver- 
mont, to  reside  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Lenox  his  uncle,  and 
George  Lenox  his  cousin,  a  student  in  Harvard  University, 
passed  his  vacations  at  Lansdown.  The  mother  of  Justyn 
Allen  had  become  a  widow,  and  had  been  induced  by  her  chil- 
dren to  fix  her  residence  with  them  ;  and  Mr  Allen  had  been 
persuaded  by  one  of  his  neighbors  to  relinquish  the  toils  of 
his  farm  for  the  easy  acquisitions  of  trade,  and  to  embark  all 
the  capital  his  credit  could  command  in  a  mercantile  en 
terprise. 

Mr.  Harrison's  infirmities  had  grown  with  his  years.  He 
passed  his  time  in  deprecating  the  encroaching  spirit  of  jaco- 
binism, and  in  predicting  the  certain  dissolution  of  the  federal 
government.  His  prejudices  operated  like  a  distemper,  and 
gave  to  every  object  a  distorted  form  and  threatening  aspect. 
He  saw  nothing  in  our  thriving  institutions — in  the  diffusion 
of  intelligence,  virtue,  and  prosperity  through  the  mass  of 
societJWbut  menaces  of  degradation  and  elements  of  disorder, 
ted  of  our  chief  magistrate,  that  during  his  late 


REDWOOD.  135 

visit  to  our  northern  metropolis,  he  exclaimed,  on  beholding  the 
concourse  of  well-dressed,  well-behaved  people,  assembled  to 
greet  him,  "  Where  are  your  common  people  ?"  This  exclama- 
tion, so  flattering  to  a  just  republican  pride,  would  have  con- 
veyed to  the  loyal  ears  of  Robert  Harrison  a  sense  of  hopeless 
degradation  ;  for  in  his  view,  every  elevation  of  the  common- 
ally  depressed  the  level  of  the  gentleman.  Fortunately  for 
him,  the  respect  inspired  by  the  good  sense  and  benevolence  of 
his  wife  shielded  him  from  the  insults  which  his  folly  provoked  ; 
and  his  connection  with  Ellen  Bruce  was  a  link  between  him 
and  his  neighbors,  which  protected  him  from  their  open  scorn. 
Ellen,  as  her  mind  matured,  became  every  day  more  dear 
and  necessary  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  with  whom,  from  fifteen  to 
eighteen,  her  time  was  passed  almost  exclusively.  Even  Mr. 
Harrison  condescended  to  say  that  he  could  not  live  without 
her,  and  his  wife,  availing  herself  of  this  favorable  expression, 
ventured  to  suggest  to  him  to  make  some  provision  for  her  fa- 
vorite in  case  of  the  misfortune  of  his  death.  "  He  had  no- 
thing," he  said,  "  to  dispose  of,  but  the  family  estate,  and  that 
he  thought  could  with  no  propriety  be  diverted  from  flowing 
in  its  natural  channel  to  the  heir  at  law,"  a  distant  relation 
residing  in  England.  Mrs.  Harrison  suggested,  that,  as  this 
gentleman  had  a  noble  revenue  from  his  own  estates,  such  an 
accession  as  their  little  property  would  be  but  as  a  drop  to  the 
ocean ;  and  she  urged  that  it  would  be  in  the  spirit  of  the 
known  generosity  of  his  family  to  confer  his  bounty  on  an  or- 
phan :  she  intimated  that  Ellen  was  quite  dependent  on  him, 
for,  except  a  few  hundred  dollars  inherited  from  her  parents, 
she  had  nothing,  and  could  have  no  rational  reliance  on  the 
Aliens  ;  for  it  had  been  for  some  time  whispered  in  Lansdown 
that  Allen,  in  his  mercantile  enterprise,  had  met  with  the  fate 
of  all  those  who,  since  the  time  of  Esop's  fish,  have  aspired  to 


136  REDWOOD. 

some  other  element  than  that  for  which  Providence  had  des- 
tined them.  All  these  arguments  she  stated  so  cogently  that 
her  husband  was  persuaded  to  comply  with  her  wishes,  and  he 
promised,  that  during  a  visit  to  Boston,  whither  he  was  going 
the  next  week  to  celebrate  the  king's  birthday,  he  would  have 
his  will  duly  drawn  and  executed,  and  devise  the  "  family  estate  " 
to  Ellen  Bruce.  This  good  resolution  shared  the  fate  of  so 
many  others  left  at  the  mercy  of  the  casualties  of  life.  Mr. 
Harrison  went  to  Boston,  and  on  the  birthday,  dined  at  the 
British  Consul's  with  a  select  band  of  loyalists.  The  illustri- 
ous occasion  and  the  good  cheer  of  his  host  tempted  him  to  the 
excessive  demonstrations  of  enthusiasm  common  on  such  occa- 
sions, and  the  consequence  was  that  he  died  the  succeeding 
night  of  an  apoplexy. 

A  few  months  subsequent  to  Mr.  Harrison's  death,  Justyn 
Allen  also  paid  the  debt  of  nature,  and  in  consequence  of 
the  unfortunate  issue  of  his  mercantile  enterprise,  left  his 
wife,  his  old  mother,  and  his  children,  without  any  provision. 
The  loss  of  her  husband  and  the  ruin  of  their  affairs  aggra- 
vated a  mortal  disease  under  which  Mrs.  Allen  had  been  for 
some  time  suffering  ;  and  as  if  the  family  was  destined  to  illus- 
trate the  common  remark,  that  troubles  never  come  singly, 
Emily  became  so  sickly  that  a  physician  pronounced  change  of 
air  necessary  to  her.  At  this  time  Susan  Allen  (whom  our 
readers  may  remember  as  the  sister  of  Justyn  Allen,  who  re- 
mained finally  attached  to  the  Shaker  society)  arrived  at  Lans- 
down  on  her  way  to  visit  a  society  of  her  own  people  at  Har- 
vard. Mrs.  Allen,  anxious  to  remove  Emily  from  the  distress- 
ing scenes  that  she  was  conscious  awaited  her  at  home,  thank- 
fully accepted  a  proposition  which  her  aunt  made,  to  take  her 
upon  this  excursion,  for  the  benefit  of  the  ride  and  change 
of  place.  Unforeseen  circumstances  detained  her  for  a  long 


REDWOOD.  137 

time  within  the  sphere  of  her  aunt's  influence ;  and  her  mind 
weakened,  and  her  spirits  dejected,  she  adopted,  as  has  been 
seen,  the  strange  faith  of  her  enthusiastic  relative.  In  the 
mean  time,  Ellen,  devoted  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Allen,  allowed 
herself  no  relaxation  but  passing  a  few  hours  occasionally  with 
Mrs.  Harrison. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  visits  that  Mrs.  Harrison  in- 
quired if  Allen's  affairs  were  so  fatally  involved  as  to  render 
it  necessary  to  surrender  the  house  to  his  creditors.  Ellen  be- 
lieved not.  "  George  Lenox,"  she  said,  "  had  advanced  two 
hundred  dollars  to  redeem  a  portion  of  the  property." 

"  George  Lenox  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Harrison,  "  how,  dear 
Ellen,  has  he  the  ability  to  do  so  generous  an  act? 

"  He  draws  on  talent  and  industry,"  replied  Ellen,  "  and  I 
do  not  believe  his  drafts  will  ever  be  dishonored." 

"  I  know,  my  love,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Harrison,  "  that  youth 
forms  vast  expectations  from  those  resources,  but  I  likewise 
know  that  they  are  not  always  answered  by  ready  money." 

Ellen  explained  to  Mrs.  Harrison  that  young  Lenox, 
after  defraying  his  expenses  at  the  university,  had  that 
amount  of  money  remaining — the  fruit  of  his  industry  and 
economy. 

"  Such  a  gift,"  said  Mrs.  Harrison,  "  his  all,  was  indeed 
most  generous,  and  deserves  the  bright  reward  that  is  glowing 
on  your  cheek  at  this  moment ;  but  still,  I  do  not  quite  com- 
prehend how  your  young  wits  have  contrived  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mand on  the  portion  of  the  property  redeemed  with  two  hun- 
dred dollars."  The  glow  that  had  suffused  Ellen's  cheek  deep- 
ened as  she  replied,  "  Dearest  Mrs.  Harrison,  forgive  me  if  I 
have  not  dealt  frankly  with  you  ;  I  wished  to  avoid  exciting 
your  tender,  but,  believe  me,  unnecessary  solicitude  about  me. 
I  have  made  the  best  use  of  my  little  inheritance  in  appropri- 


138  REDWOOD. 

ating  it  to  the  relief  of  my  friends :  the  sum,  as  you  know,  was 
originally  four  hundred  dollars.  It  has  been  more  than  doubled 
by  Mr  Allen,  more  prudent  in  the  management  of  my  affairs 
than  his  own ;  and  yesterday  I  had  the  happiness  of  giving  it 
into  George  Lenox's  hands,  and  of  seeing  the  joy  of  Mrs.  Al- 
len, when  it  was  announced  to  her  by  her  principal  creditor 
that  a  valuable  portion  of  her  property  had  been  redeemed  by 
an  unknown  friend  ;  and  had  you  seen  the  expression  that  lit 
up  her  sick  face,  when  she  exclaimed,  '  Thank  God,  my  old 
mother  will  not  have  to  go  forth  from  her  son's  house  to  seek 
a  shelter  in  her  old  age,  and  my  children,  my  dear  children, 
may  come  home,  to  live  again  under  their  father's  roof.'  Oh, 
Mrs.  Harrison,  you  might  have  envied  me  the  pleasure  of  that 
moment,  had  it  cost  me  ten  thousand  times  the  paltry  sum  I 
sacrificed  for  it." 

"  Then  she  is  ignorant  of  her  benefactor  ?" 

"  Yes — but  do  not  give  me  that  name — benefactor !  dear 
Mrs.  Harrison,  it  can  only  be  because  I  owe  to  you  an  equal 
debt,  that  you  forget  my  obligations  to  Mrs.  Allen:  did  not 
she  save  my  helpless  infancy  from  neglect,  and  without  a 
mother's  instincts  or  rights,  has  she  not  nurtured  me  with  a 
mother's  tenderness?" 

"  You  are  right — you  are  right,  my  noble-minded  Ellen," 
replied  Mrs.  Harrison,  as  Ellen  paused  in  her  appeal:  "my 
fear  of  the  possible  evils  you  may  encounter  (should  I  be  re- 
moved from  you)  from  want  and  dependence,  afflicts  me  with 
undue  anxiety.  I  hope  I  should  have  courage  enough  not  to 
shrink  from  any  evils  that  menaced  myself,  but  when  I  think 
of  your  being  exposed  to  a  cold,  selfish  world,  I  feel  a  mother's 
timidity ;  you,  with  your  strange,  mysterious  history,  Ellen, 
your  inexperience,  your  generous,  confiding  temper,  with  all 
that  refinement  that  I  have  foolishly,  perhaps  sinfully,  delight- 


REDWOOD.  139 

ed  to  watch  stealing  over  your  character,  with  all  the  graces 
that  fit  you  for " 

"  Oh,  stop,  dear  Mrs.  Harrison,  this  is  strange  language 
for  you  to  hold,  and  me  to  hear ;  my  highest  ambition  is  to  do 
well  my  duty  in  whatever  station  Providence  assigns  me.  This 
is  an  ambition,  as  you  have  taught  me,  that  cannot  be  disap- 
pointed ;  here  the  race  is  to  the  swift,  and  the  battle  to  the 
strong.  I  will  not,"  she  added,  playfully,  "  any  longer  expose 
my  humility  to  temptation ;"  and  she  put  on  her  hat,  and 
stooped  to  her  friend  for  a  farewell  kiss,  when  Mrs.  Harrison 
said,  '•  not  yet,  Ellen,  you  must  not  go  till  you  have  explained 
to  me  this  benevolent  sympathy  of  yours  and  young  Lenox's ; 
this  generous  union  of  your  fortunes  is  doubtless  received  by 
him  as  a  good  omen  ?" 

"  The  event  of  our  friend's  happiness  has  already  interpret- 
ed the  omen,  and  explained  all  its  significance,"  replied  Ellen, 
rising  and  walking  away  from  Mrs.  Harrison. 

"  Now,  come  back  to  me,  Ellen,"  said  she,  "  and  seat  your- 
self here  on  my  footstool,  and  if  your  tongue  will  not  speak  the 
truth,  I  must  read  it  in  your  truth-telling  eyes  and  cheeks." 

Ellen  turned  towards  her  friend  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  reluctantly ;  and  reseating  herself,  she  said  with  an  embar- 
rassed air,  "  I  scarcely  can  conjecture  what  you  expect  from 
me." 

"  I  will  not  tax  your  sagacity  to  conjecture,  but  come  direct- 
ly to  the  point — do  you  love  George  Lenox  ?" 

"  Most  certainly  I  do  ;  I  should  be  the  most  ungrateful — " 

"  Pshaw,  my  dear  Ellen,  it  is  not  the  love  that  springs  from 
any  such  dutiful  source  as  gratitude  which  is  in  question  at 
this  moment ;  but  that  mysterious  sentiment,  inexplicable,  un- 
controllable, which  does  not  require,  and  seldom  (I  fear)  admits 
a  reason  for  its  existence." 


140  REDWOOD. 

"  I  should  be  sorry,  indeed,  to  confess  or  to  feel  such  a  sen- 
timent for  any  one." 

"  Evading,  again  !  Ah.  dear  Ellen,  the  nature  of  the  ani- 
mal is  known  by  its  doublings.  You  are  so  deep  in  the  sci- 
ence as  to  demand  the  use  of  technics — tell  me,  then,  are 
you  in  love  with  George  Lenox  ?" 

'  Indeed  I  am  not — you  know  I  am  not,  Mrs.  Harrison." 

"  I  fancied  J  knew  that  you  were  not,  but  nothing  less  than 
a  gift  of  second  sight  is  infallible  on  such  occasions :  we  must 
go  a  little  farther,  Ellen,  even  at  the  risk  of  deepening  the 
crimson  on  your  cheeks — you  surely  are  not  unconscious  that 
Lenox  is  in  love  with  you  ?" 

"  He  has  never  told  me  so,"  replied  Ellen. 

"  That  may  be — young  Edwin  '  never  talked  of  love' — but 
without  much  experience,  you  know  there  are  expressions  that 
speak  this  passion  more  emphatically  than  language :  and,  ex- 
empt as  you  are  from  vanity,  I  think  you  cannot  have  misun- 
derstood this  amiable  young  man's  devotion  to  you — his  eager- 
ness for  your  society,  his  anxiety  to  gratify  all  your  wishes,  his 
eye  fixed  on  you  as  if  he  were  spell-bound — " 

"  0,  say  no  more,"  exclaimed  Ellen,  hiding  her  face  on  her 
friend's  lap,  "  I  have  understood  George,  but  I  hoped — " 

"  To  be  able  to  make  an  appropriate  return.  Have  I  made 
out  your  meaning  ?" 

"  Far  from  it — I  hoped  that  our  approaching  separation — 
that  new  pursuits,  new  objects,  would  efface  the  accidental  pre- 
ference which  has  arisen  from  our  early  and  confidential  inter- 
course." 

"  In  short,  you  trusted  to  those  accidents  over  which  you 
have  no  control  to  heal  the  wound  that  your  kindness,  your 
unreserved  manner  to  this  poor  young  man  has  been  for  years 
deepening." 


REDWOOD.  141 

•'  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Harrison,  of  what  do  you  suspect  ine — of 
the  baseness  of  coquetry  ?" 

"No,  Ellen,  no,  you  are  incapable  of  trifling  with  the 
happiness  of  any  one ;  your  error  has  arisen  from  inexpe- 
rience. I  should  have  cautioned  you,  but  I  am  not  fit  to  be 
your  guide  and  counsellor  in  affairs  of  this  nature  ;  for  though 
I  have  lived  more  than  half  a  century,  my  secluded,  childless 
life  has  offered  few  opportunities  of  observation,  and  fewer 
still  where  my  sagacity  has  been  stimulated  by  inteiest.  I 
forgive  your  surprise  and  your  indignation,  my  love,  at  what 
you  imagined  my  suspicion  of  coquetry,  for  I  know  nothing 
more  selfish,  heartless,  base,  and  degrading,  than  for  a  woman 
to  encourage,  nay  permit  the  growth  of  an  affection  which  she 
has  no  intention  of  returning." 

"I  should  detest  such  a  miserable  triumph  of  vanity ,"^ ex- 
claimed Ellen  ;  "  I  should  hate  myself  were  I  capable  of  it, 
and  George,  kind,  generous  as  he  is,  the  sufferer.  What 
ought  I  to  do — can  I  do  any  thing  now  V'  she  asked  with  the 
impatience  of  a  generous  mind  to  repair  the  evil  it  has  in- 
flicted." 

"No,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Harrison,  "it  is  only  by 
leaving  undone,  that  mischief  can  be  avoided  in  affairs  of  this 
kind.  George  goes  to-morrow ;  avoid  seeing  him  again,  if  you 
can  without  apparent  design,  for  farewell  words  and  looks 
furnish  food  for  the  sweet  and  bitter  fancies  of  a  brain-sick 
lover  during  any  interval  of  absence. 

"  The  severe  suffering,"  she  continued,  as  she  marked  the 
deep  melancholy  that  had  succeeded  Ellen's  usually  animated 
expression,  "  you  feel  at  this  moment  from  having  been  the 
involuntary  cause  of  disappointment  to  your  friend,  will  teach 
you  in  future  jealously  to  guard  the  happiness  that  may  be  ex- 
posed to  the  influence  of  your  attraction.  You  are  in  no 


142  REDWOOD. 

danger  of  the  silly  vanity  of  fancying  that  civility  means  love, 
and  of  giving  importance  to  every  trifling  gallantry ;  but 
modest — humble  in  your  self-estimate,  you  are  in  danger  of 
wounding  deeply  the  bosom  that  is  bared  to  your  involuntary 
shafts.1' 

"  There  is  no  need  of  caution  for  the  future,"  replied 
Ellen,  "  no  one  else  will  ever  care  for  me  so  much  as  George 
does."  x 

"  That  may  be,  dear  Ellen,  but  as  you  are  scarce  eighteen, 
it  is  possible  that  you  have  not  finished  y9ur  experience  in 
love  affairs ;  if  you  preserve  that  woe-begone  visage,  indeed, 
any  other  safeguard  against  the  effect  of  your  charms  will  be 
quite  superfluous ;  come,  my  love,  cheer  up,  and  let  me  hear 
your  sweet  voice  at  my  dinner  table,  as  sweet  to  me  as  min- 
strelsy to  an  old  chieftain." 

Ellen  made  a  vain  effort  to  recover  her  spirits,  and  then 
hurried  away  that  she  might  indulge  her  ingenuous  sorrow 
without  giving  pain  to  her  friend.  She  was  careful  to  follow 
Mrs.  Harrison's  prudent  counsel,  and  when  George  Lenox 
came  to  pass  his  last  evening  with  her,  he  received  a  friendly 
farewell  message,  with  the  information  that  her  duty  to  Mrs. 
Allen  precluded  her  seeing  him  again.  Before  the  morning 
dawned  George  was  in  a  stage-coach  on  his  way  to  the  south. 
He  passed  the  boundary  of  Lansdown  with  almost  as  heavy  a 
heart  as  our  first  parent  bore  through  the  gates  of  Paradise  : 
feeling,  like  all  true  lovers,  "  that  the  world  is  divided  into 
two  parts ;  that  where  she  is,  and  that  where  she  is  not." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  Mrs.  Harrison  was 
most  gratified  or  disappointed  by  the  result  of  her  investiga- 
tion into  the  state  of  Ellen's  affections.  While  she  lived,  her 
annuity  was  ample  for  the  support  of  Ellen  and  herself ;  but 
nothing  could  be  more  precarious  than  such  a  dependence,  and 


REDWOOD.  143 

Ellen  might  be  left  to  encounter  alone  the  wants  of  life. 
Young  Lenox  had  promising  talents,  and  those  "getting 
along  "  faculties,  that  are  a  warrant  for  success :  his  devoted 
attachment  was  merit  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Harrison  ;  still  he 
wanted  those  refined  habits,  that  delicacy  of  taste,  the  result 
of  cultivation,  and  those  graces  of  manner,  to  all  which  Mrs. 
Harrison,  from  her  early  habits  and  associations,  gave  (it  may 
be)  an  undue  importance.  There  is  such  a  taste  for  learning 
(we  use  the  word  in  its  provincial  sense)  pervading  all  ranks 
in  New  EnglanjJ — if  indeed  ranks  can  be  predicated  of  a 
society  where  none  dare  to  define  the  dividing  lines,  and  few 
can  perceive  them — that  we  often  see  those  advanced  to  the 
most  conspicuous  stations  in  society,  whose  boyish  years  have 
been  spent  in  ploughing  the  narrow  fields  of  the  patrimonial 
farm.  There  are  some  disagreeable  results  from  this  state  of 
things,  on  the  whole  so  honorable ;  and  Mrs.  Harrison  felt  that 
in  implanting  in  Ellen  the  tastes  that  belong  to  the  highest 
grades  of  society,  and  in  cultivating  the  habits  of  the  "  born 
gentlewoman,"  she  had  conferred  a  superiority  of  doubtful 
value  :  and  she  was  almost  led  to  regret  the  fastidiousness 
which  had  been  her  own  work,  when  she  felt  herself  compelled 
to  trace  to  it  Ellen's  rejection  of  the  affection  of  one  who  was 
her  equal  in  all  important  respects,  and  whose  excellent  char- 
acter and  flattering  prospects  would  have  rendered  a  connec- 
tion with  him  highly  advantageous.  We  said  Mrs.  Harrison 
almost  regretted  the  state  of  Ellen's  heart,  we  fear  she  did  not 
quite,  for  in  common  with  the  best  individuals,  she  sometimes 
sacrificed  general  and  immutable  principles  to  the  indulgence 
of  her  favorite  peculiarities. 

Mrs.  Allen's  life  closed  at  the  end  of  a  few  painful  weeks, 
and  Ellen,  after  having  performed  every  service  for  her  with 
the  strictest  fidelity,  wept  over  her  with  filial  sorrow.  Old 


144  REDWOOD. 

Mrs.  Allen  soon  after  joined  her  grandson  at  Eton,  and  Ellen, 
thus  unfettered  by  duty,  returned  to  Mrs.  Harrison's,  where 
her  life  passed  happily  in  pursuits  congenial  to  her  taste,  till 
she  was  summoned  to  Vermont  by  intelligence  of  the  threat- 
ening illness  of  Edward  Allen. 


REDWOOD.  145 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  See  what  a  ready  tongue  suspicion  hath." 

HENRY  IV. 

OUR  readers  no  doubt  will  think  it  is  quite  time  that  we  should 
return  from  our  long  digression  to  the  family  at  Eton.  There 
nothing  occurred  worthy  their  notice,  till  one  evening  Mrs. 
Lenox,  entering  Miss  Bruce's  apartment,  said,  "  Ellen,  are 
you  here,  and  quite  alone  ?"  "  Quite  alone,"  replied  Ellen ; 
"  Miss  Redwood  has  not  left  her  father's  room  since  they  took 
their  tea." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it — glad  the  girl  has  the  grace  to  stay  with 
him  even  for  half  an  hour,  though  her  society  seems  to  be  of 
little  use  or  consolation  ;  and  particularly  glad,  dear  Ellen,  to 
find  you  alone.  I  must  interrupt  your  starlight  meditations, 
or  rather  give  you  an  interesting  subject  for  them :  but  we 
shall  want  a  light,  for  I  have  brought  you  a  letter  to  read." 

«  A  letter  !"— 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  a  letter,  and  to  me  the  most  delightful  I 
ever  received."  She  was  about  to  proceed  to  divulge  its  con- 
tents, when  both  she  and  Ellen  were  startled  by  a  sound  about 
Miss  Redwood's  bed.  Mrs.  Lenox  advanced  to  the  bed  and 
laid  her  hand  on  it.  "  There  is  no  one  here,"  she  said,  "  I 
fancied  I  heard  a  sound."  "  I  fancied  so  too,"  said  Ellen. 


146  REDWOOD. 

"  Happily  we  were  both  mistaken,  my  dear,  for  I  should  bo 
very  sorry  to  tell  my  story  to  any  ears  but  yours.  Ellen,  L 
am  the  proudest  and  happiest  of  mothers  ;  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  George,  which  proves  that  he  is  worthy  of  his 
prosperity." 

'•  I  am  very  glad  of  it." 

' '  And  do  you  not  yet,  Ellen,  suspect  the  reason  you  have 
to  be  glad — do  you  not  know  that  George  loves  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !"  exclaimed  Ellen  involuntarily. 

"  Hope  not,  my  dear  Ellen  !  I  am  sure  there  is  not  another 
in  the  world  so  worthy  of  his  love — not  another  who  would  be 
such  an  ornament  to  the  station  in  which  George  will  place  his 
wife — not  another  that  I  should  be  so  happy  to  call  my  child." 
She  paused  for  a  moment  for  a  reply,  but  Ellen  said  nothing. 

"  Do  not,"  Mrs.  Lenox  continued.  "  repress  your  feelings. 
George,  like  a  dutiful  son,  reposes  confidence  in  me,  and  why 
should  not  you  ?  George  himself  can  hardly  love  you  better 
than  I  do." 

"  Thank  you — thank  you,  Mrs.  Lenox  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  must  not  thank  me,  you  are  worthy 
your  good  fortune,  and  your  own  merit  has  secured  it.  I  have 
used  no  influence,  though  I  would  have  done  any  thing  to  have 
brought  about  the  connection  ;  but  this  is  George's  unbiassed 
decision,  he  confesses  to  me  he  has  loved  you  ever  since  he  was 
a  boy.  Is  not  such  a  good  and  constant  heart  worth  having, 
Ellen,  not  to  mention  being  the  wife  of  a  celebrated  young 
clergyman  ?" 

Here  the  happy  mother  again  paused,  and  again  wondered 
she  received  no  reply. 

"  Not  a  word,  Ellen  ?  well,  you  shall  have  your  own  way  ; 
it  is  in  vain  to  expect  common  sense,  or  a  common  way  of 
showing  it,  from  girls  in  love :  so  I  will  just  bring  you  a  can- 


REDWOOD.  147 

die,  and  leave  you  to  read  the  letter  by  yourself :  only  remem- 
ber that  the  southern  mail  goes  out  to-morrow,  and  that  lovers 
like  to  1-avo  their  declarations  come  back  to  them  as  quick  as 
echoes." 

Thus  saying,  Mrs.  Lenox  rose  to  leave  the  room,  when 
Ellen  caught  her  by  the  arm,  and  exclaimed,  "  stop  one  mo- 
ment, Mrs.  Lenox,  and  hear  me." 

"  Hear  you,  dear  Ellen  ;  George  himself  could  scarcely  be 
more  delighted  to  hear  you."  Ellen's  tongue  seemed  to  be 
again  paralyzing,  but  making  a  strong  effort,  she  said,  "  you 
know,  Mrs.  Lenox,  what  reasons  I  have  for  wishing  to  defer 
for  the  present  all  thoughts  of  marriage  ;  you  know  that  I 
ought  not  to  involve  any  one  in  my  unhappy  destiny ;  you 
know — George  does  not — that  possible  disgrace  awaits  me." 

"  But,  my  dearest  Ellen,  what  is  all  this  to  the  purpose  1 
Have  you  so  poor  an  opinion  of  my  son's  attachment  to  you, 
as  to  fancy  that  the  worst  issue  of  your  uncertainties  which 
you  can  apprehend  would  be  a  straw  in  his  way  ?  No  !  he 
loves  you  for  yourself  alone — truly — devotedly  loves  you." 

Ellen  was  quite  overcome  with  the  generous,  affectionate 
zeal  of  the  mother,  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  clasped  Mrs. 
Lenox's  hand  in  hers,  and  said,  "  I  do  not  deserve  this,  my 
dear,  kind  friend  ;  I  have  not  been  frank  with  you.  I  do 
not,"  she  added,  faltering,  "  I  do  not  love  Georg^." 

"  Not  love  him  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lenox,  drawing  back 
from  Ellen,  "  not  love  him,  Ellen  !  it  can't  be,  child — it  is  im- 
possible." Poor  Ellen  at  this  moment  wished  it  were  impossi- 
ble ;  she  sunk  back  in  her  chair,  and  dark  as  the  room  was, 
instinctively  covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,  while  her 
friend,  in  great  agitation,  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  talk- 
ing half  to  herself  and  half  to  Ellen.  "  Not  love  him  !  I  can 
not  believe  it ;  you  have  always  known  him.  You  know  there 


148  REDWOOD 

is  not  a  blemish  on  bis  character.  A  pious  minister — a  man 
of  education  and  talents — very  good  talents — quite  uncommon 
talents — and  a  better  tempered  boy  never  lived  ;  and  as  to  his 
appearance,  there  may  be  handsomer  men  than  George,  but 
there  never  was  a  pleasanter  look — a  good  faithful  son  he  has 
been,  and  brother,  and  that  is  a  sure  sign  he  will  be  a  good 
husband :  and  he  loves  you,  Ellen  ;"  she  concluded,  pausing, 
and  placing  her  hand  on  Ellen's  shoulder,  "  and  you  can't  be 
in  your  right  mind  if  you  do  not  love  him." 

Ellen  felt  that  it  would  be  in  vain  to  attempt  to  convince 
the  fond  mother  that  that  could  be  a  right  mind  which  did  not, 
as  she  would  think,  justly  appreciate  George's  merits  :  and  she 
was  too  delicate,  too  gentle  to  attempt  to  vindicate  herself. 
She  was  grateful  for  the  mother's  and  the  son's  generous  pre- 
ference of  an  isolated  being  ;  and  approaching  alone  the  crisis 
of  her  fate,  she  was  reluctant  to  refuse  the  kind  protecting 
arm  that  was  stretched  out  to  succor  and  protect  her. 

She  faltered  for  a  moment  in  the  resolution  she  had  in- 
stinctively taken  :  she  could  not  bear  to  afflict,  perhaps  to  alien- 
ate her  partial  friends — she  might  be  able  to  command  her 
affections.  But,  alas  !  the  spirit  would  not  come  when  she  did 
call  it ;  for  when  Mrs.  Lenox,  suspecting  some  infirmity  of 
purpose  from  Ellen's  continued  silence,  said,  in  a  softened  tone, 
"  It  was  but-a  g|rlish,  silly  feeling  after  all — was  it,  dear  Ellen  ? 
yon  will  not  be  such  a  child  as  to  throw  away  the  prize  you 
have  drawn."  She  replied  with  a  dignified  decision  that 
lasted  Mrs.  Lenox's  reviving  hopes :  "  I  have  nothing  to  give 

that  prize,  and  it  cannot  be  mine.  George  must  seek  some 
one  who  can  return  his  affections,  and  thus  deserve  them — I 
cannot." 

••  Well,  this  is  most  extraordinary,"  replied  Mrs.  Lenox ; 
"  why  what  do  you  wish  for '?  what  do  you  expect,  Ellen  ?:> 


I 


REDWOOD.  l49 

"  Nothing,  nothing  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Lenox,  but  your  and 
your  son's  forgiveness  for  what  must  seem  to  you  ingratitude, 
insensibility  ;  for  myself/'  she  added,  "  my  path  is  a  soli- 
tary one  ;  but  there  is  light  on  it  from  heaven  ;  and  if  I  can 
preserve  the  kindness  of  my  friends,  I  shall  have  courage  and 
patience  for  the  rest."  There  was  so  much  purity  and  truth 
and  feeling  in  Ellen's  words,  that  Mrs.  Lenox  could  not  retain 
the  resentment  that,  in  spite  of  her  better  feelings,  had  arisen 
in  her  bosom.  "  Our  forgiveness  !"  she  replied,  kindly,  "  Oh, 
Ellen,  you  need  not  ask  our  forgiveness.  George,  poor  fellow, 
thinks  you  can  do  no  wrong,  and  I  always  did  think  so :  and 
even  now  I  do  not  feel  so  much  for  my  son  as  to  see  you  so 
blind  to  your  own  happiness." 

How  long  this  conference,  so  unsatisfactory  to  the  mother 
and  embarrassing  to  Ellen,  might  have  continued,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say,  had  it  not  been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Miss  Redwood. 

"  Ah  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  a  tete  a  tete,  confidential,  no 
doubt ;  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  it,"  she  continued,  looking  at 
both  the  ladies,  and  observing  the  signs  of  emotion  that  were 
too  evident  to  escape  notice  ;  "  it  seems  to  have  been  interest- 
ing. Come,  Lilly,  you  lazy  wretch,"  she  added,  turning  to  the 
servant,  who  was  lying  stretched  out  on  the  floor  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  "  get  up  and  undress  me ;  I  have  Ifcen  dying  with 
sleep  this  half  hour,  while  papa  was  prosing  away  at  me." 

Lilly's  appearance  on  the  floor  at  the  entrance  of  the  light 
explained  to  the  ladies  the  noise  they  had  heard  ;  they  e 
changed  looks  of  mutual  intelligence,  but  both  concluding 

•^^^^H 

had  been  asleep,  they  gave  themselves  no  farther  concern  :ihou£ 
her.     Mrs.  Lenox  bade  the  young  ladies  good  night,  and  re- 
paired to  her  husband  with  a  heavy  heart  to  acquaint, him  with, 
the  result  of  George's  suit.     He,  good,  easy  man,  after  express- 


150  REDWOOD. 

ing  some  surprise,  concluded  with  the  truisms,  that  girls  were 
apt  to  be  notional ;  that  to  be  sure  Ellen  was  a  likely  young 
woman,  but  there  were  plenty  of  fish  in  the  sea,  and  good  ones 
too,  that  would  spring  at  a  poorer  bait  than  George  could  throw 
out ;  #nd  besides,  he  added,  by  way  of  consolation,  there  ua- 
something  of  a  mist  about  Ellen,  and  though  he  should  not 
have  made  that  an  objection,  seeing  that  she  was  a  good  girl, 
and  George  had  an  idea  about  her,  yet,  as  matters  had  turned 
out  as  they  had,  he  believed  it  was  all  for  the  best.  Mrs. 
Lenox  thought  her  husband  had  very  inadequate  notions  of 
Ellen  Bruce's  merits,  but  she  was  wise  enough  to  refrain  from 
disturbing  his  philosophy  on  this  trying  occasion. 

Soon  after  Mrs.  Lenox  left  the  young  ladies'  apartment, 
Miss  Bruce  took  her  hat  and  shawl  and  stole  softly  down  stairs. 
Miss  Redwood  listened  to  her  footsteps  till  she  heard  the  house 
door  close  after  her.  "  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  Lilly,"  she 
demanded  of  her  servant,  "  what  can  she  have  gone  out  for  at 
this  time  in  the  evening  ?' 

"  I  am  not  the  witch  that  can  tell  that,  Miss  Caroline  ;  but 
one  thing  I  can  tell ;  I  heard  her  say  to  Doctor  Bristol,  as  I 
passed  them  standing  together  in  the  entry  just  before  he 
went  away  to-day,  '  I  shall  not  fail  to  be  there.' " 

Nothing  could  be  more  indefinite  than  Lilly's  information  ; 
however,  it  wfc  more  satisfactory  than  none,  and  after  ponder- 
ing on  it  for  a  moment,  her  mistress  said,  "  your  ears  are 
worth  having,  girl — tell  me,  did  you  hear  what  Miss  Bruce  and 
rs.  Lenox  were  talking  about  in  the  dark  here  ?"  "  That  did 
iss  Caroline  ;  trust  me  for  using  my  ears.  I  waked  when 
Mrs.  Lenox  came  into  the  room,  and  was  just  starting  up.  when, 
thinks  I  to  myself,  they'll  be  saying  something  about  Miss 
Gary,  and  I'll  just  lie  snug  and  hear  it — it  will  be  nuts 
for  her." 


REDWOOD.  151 

"Did  they  talk  about  me?  what  said  they?  tell  me 
quick." 

"  Why,  Miss  Gary,  they  said  just  nothing  at  all  about  you ; 
no  more  than  if  you  wasn't  nobody." 

"  What  in  the  name  of  wonder  then  did  they  talk  about — 
what  could  they  have  to  say  ?"  asked  Miss  Kedwood,  wonder- 
ing internally  that  there  should  be  any  field  of  vision  in  which 
she  was  not  the  most  conspicuous  object. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Gary,"  replied  Lilly,  "  their  talk  was  all  about 
themselves ;  that  is  to  say,  about  Miss  Bruce  and  George 
Lenox,  that  I  told  you  was  going  to  marry  her  ;  but  it  appears 
she  is  all  off  the  notion  of  it  now,  though  his  mother  Pegged 
her  as  hard  as  a  body  might  beg  for  your  striped  gown  that 
you  don't  wear  any  more,  Miss  Gary." 

"  You  selfish  wretch  !  My  striped  gown — it  is  hideous  ! 
You  may  have  it,  Lilly,  only  tell  me  what  Mrs.  Lenox  said, 
and  what  Miss  Bruce,  and  all  about  it."  Lilly  proceeded  to 
the  details,  and  by  her  skilful  use  of  the  powers  of  memory 
and  invention,  she  made  out  a  much  longer  conversation  than 
we  have  reported  to  our  readers ;  from  which  conversation 
Caroline  deduced  the  natural  inference,  that  Miss  Bruce  would 
not  sacrifice  the  opportunity  of  an  advantageous  connection 
without  a  good  and  sufficient  reason.  What  could  be  that  rea- 
son ?  The  attempt  to  solve  this  mystery  led  her  into  a  la- 
byrinth of  conjectures,  from  which  there  was  no  clue  for  extri- 
cation but  the  apparent  and  mutual  interest  that  subsisted  be- 
tween her  father  and  Miss  Bruce.  It  was  possible  that  Ellen  in- 
dulged hopes  of  a  more  splendid  alliance  than  that  with  George 
Lenox.  Caroline  really  had  too  much  sense  to  allow  much  force 
to  this  extraordinary  conclusion  ;  still  she  continued  alternately 
to  dwell  on  that,  and  on  the  reason  of  Miss  Bruce's  absence, 
till  Lilly  spoke  of  the  expected  arrival  of  the  Westalls.  This 


152  REDWOOD. 

opened  a  new  channel  for  her  thoughts — the  debtit  of  a  possi- 
ble admirer  could  rival  any  other  interest,  and  before  she  sunk 
to  sleep,  Ellen's  affairs  subsided  to  the  insignificance  which 
they  really  bore  in  relation  to  her  own. 

Caroline  found  other  influences  as  unfriendly  to  sleep  as  the 
'bracing  air  of  the  lake.'  She  awoke  with  the  first  beam  of 
day,  and  instinctively  raised  her  head  from  the  pillow  to  ascer- 
tain whether  Ellen  Bruce's  bed  was  unoccupied  ;  it  was,  but 
her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a  footstep  in  the  entry,  and  imme- 
diately after  Ellen  entered  with  as  little  noise  as  possible. 
"  You  need  not  be  so  quiet,  Miss  Bruce,"  said  Caroline,  "  I  am 
wide  awake." 

"  I  am  happy  if  I  do  not  disturb  you,"  replied  Ellen,  "  still 
I  must  be  quiet  on  account  of  the  family."  'Ah,'  thought 
Caroline,  'the  family  then  know  nothing  of  this  manoeuvre.' 
"  You  look  excessively  pale  and  wearied,  Miss  Bruce." 

"  I  am  wearied,"  replied  Ellen,  without  gratifying  or  even 
noticing  Miss  Redwood's  curiosity :  "  but,"  she  added,  as  she 
threw  herself  on  the  bed,  "  I  shall  have  time  before  breakfast 
to  refresh  myself." 

Caroline,  with  the  transmuting  power  of  jealousy,  had  con- 
verted Ellen's  simplest  actions  into  aliments  for  her  suspicions, 
and  now  that  a  circumstance  had  occurred  which  did  not  rea- 
dily admit  of  an  explanation,  she  exulted  in  the  expectation 
of  a  triumph  over  her  father,  who  had  treated  her  curiosity  in 
relation  to  Ellen  as  quite  childish  and  groundless.  ';  Your 
favorite,  papa,"  she  said,  seizing  a  favorable  opportunity  when 
she  was  sitting  alone  with  her  father  after  dinner,  ';  has  a  sin- 
gular taste  for  walking — and  at  such  odd  hours." 

"  It  may  appear  singular  to  you,  Caroline,  with  your  south- 
ern habits ;  but  I  imagine  you  will  not ;  find  it  uncommon  at 
the  north." 


REDWOOD.  153 

"  0,  north  or  south,  papa,  I  fancy  it  is  not  common  for  lady 
pedestrians  to  pass  the  whole  night  in  promenades." 

"  The  whole  night — what  do  you  mean,  my  child  ?"  Caro- 
line explained.  Her  father  listened  to  her  detail  with  undis- 
guised interest,  and  after  a  few  moments'  pause,  he  said,  "  it 
would  have  been  natural  and  quite  proper,  as  you  are  Miss 
Bruce's  room-mate,  that  you  should  have  asked  of  her  the  rea- 
son of  her  absence  last  night — did  you  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  papa,  no  ;  I  have  not  yet  taken  lessons 
enough  of  these  question-asking  Yankees,  to  inquire  into  that 
which  this  lady  of  mysteries  evidently  chooses  to  keep  secret, 
even  from  her  dear  friends  the  Lenoxes." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  since  you  will  not  or  cannot  gratify  your 
curiosity,  I  advise  you  to  suspend  it,  and  to  do  yourself  and 
Miss  Bruce  the  justice  to  remember  the  remark  of  a  sagacious 
observer,  that  the  '  simplest  characters  sometimes  baffle  all  the 
art  of  decipherers.'  You  look  displeased,  Caroline — let  us  talk 
on  some  subject  on  which  we  shall  agree  better  I  think  we 
may  look  for  the  Westalls  to-day." 

"  Thank  heaven  ! — any  change  will  be  agreeable." 

"  Agreeable  as  a  change,  no  doubt — but  the  society  of  the 
Westalls  will,  I  hope,  have  some  more  enduring  charm  than 
novelty ;  the  mother,  I  am  certain,  will  be  quite  to  your  taste 
— and  to  the  son,  if  report  speaks  truly,  no  young  lady  can  be 
indifferent." 

"  How,  papa ;  is  he  handsome,  clever,  rich,  accomplished  ?" 

"  Handsome — if  I  had  seen  Charles  Westall  within  the  last 
half-hour,  I  should  hardly  presume  to  decide  on  so  delicate  a 
point :  he  was  but  four  years  old  when  I  parted  from  him.  ot~ 
course  I  only  recollect  him  as  a. child.  I  have  been  told  how- 
ever by  some  Virginians  \vln>  !i;ivo  visited  the  north,  that  !H  i.s 
the  image  of  his  father  :  if  so,  he  has  an  appearance  that  ladies 


154  REDWOOD. 

usually  honor  with  their  favor — manly,  intelligent,  and  expres 
sire  of  every  benevolent  affection." 

"  No  tone  of  your  soft-amiable  gentle-zephyr  youths,  I  hope, 
papa  ? — they  are  my  aversion." 

"  Not  precisely  ;  but  if  his  face  resembles  his  father's,  it 
rather  indicates  a  natural  taste  for  domestic  life  than  for  the 
'  shrill  fife  and  spirit-stirring  drum ' — for  the  peace  than  the 
war  establishment ;  but  I  shall  leave  you  to  decide  on  his  beau- 
ty, Caroline,"  continued  Mr.  Redwood,  as  he  noticed  a  slight 
blush  on  his  daughter's  cheek  at  what  she  considered  an  allusion 
to  her  military  preference.  " '  Is  he  clever  ?'  is,  I  think,  the 
second  question  in  the  order  of  your  interrogatories ;  to  this 
point  I  have  the  most  satisfactory  testimonials ;  he  has  received 
the  first  honors  of  the  first  university  in  our  country — has 
finished  the  study  of  the  law  with  one  of  the  most  eminent 
men  at  the  north,  and  has  received  the  proposal  of  a  most  ad- 
vantageous partnership  with  his  instructor,  which  he  has  just 
accepted." 

"  Then  if  he  is  going  into  the  drudgery  of  business,  he  is 
not  rich  of  course,  papa  ?" 

"  No,  Caroline,  he  is  not  rich," — Mr.  Redwood  was  on  the 
point  of  adding,  li  and  of  what  consequence  is  that  to  us  ?" 
but  he  remembered  in  time,  that  it  was  his  policy  to  conceal 
from  his  wayward  daughter  his  own  views  ;  and  he  said,  after 
a  momentary  pause,  "  his  father's  rash  generosity  impoverished 
his  estate.  The  father  was  an  enthusiast,  Caroline  ;  he  thought 
as  we  all  do  of  the  curse  of  slavery." 

"  The  curse  of  slavery  !  lord.  papa,  don't  you  cant  ?  There 
is  no  living  without  slaves." 

"  I  fear,  my  child,  that  we  shall  find  there  is  no  living  with 
them  ;  but  besides  the  universal  feeling  in  relation  to  the  evil 
of  slavery,  if  you  xvill  permit  me,  Miss  Redwood,  to  call  it  an 


REDWOOD.  155 

evil.  Westall's  father  had  some  peculiar  notions. — During  his 
life  he  gave  to  many  of  his  slaves  their  freedom." 

"  Oh,  shameful !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  "  when  every  body 
allows,  that  all  our  danger  is  from  the  freed  slaves." 

"  Westall  endeavored  as  far  as  possible  to  obviate  that  dan- 
ger. He  reserved  the  noble  gift  for  those  who  were  qualified 
for  it  by  some  useful  art,  or  power  of  independent  industry. 
At  his  death  he  bequeathed  their  liberty  to  all  who  remained 
on  the  plantation.  This  it  appears  he  deemed  not  generous 
but  just ;  as  he  stated  in  his  will,  that  in  resigning  his  property 
in  them  he  merely  restored  to  them  a  natural  right  which  they 
had  received  from  their  Creator,  and  which  he  had  only  with- 
held in  the  hope  of  fitting  them  to  enjoy  it.  but  which  he  would 
not  leave  in  the  power  of  any  one  to  detain  from  them." 

"  How  very  odd,  papa  !  and  so  by  the  indulgence  of  these 
whims  he  beggared  poor  Charles  ?" 

"  It  cannot  be  denied  that  young  Westall's  inheritance  was 
impaired  by  his  father's  singular,  or  it  may  be  fanatical,  no- 
tions of  justice  ;  for  the  value  of  a  southern  plantation  is  gra- 
duated by  the  number  of  its  slaves,  and  without  them  it  is 
much  in  the  condition  of  a  cart  without  a  horse.  There  was 
no  hypocrisy  in  my  friend's  professed  dislike  of  slavery ;  it 
was  deep-rooted  and  unconquerable,  and  to  it  he  sacrificed 
every  pecuniary  advantage.  According  to  the  absolute  pro- 
vision of  his  will  his  plantation  was  sold,  and  his  widow  and 
son  removed  to  the  north.  Charles's  fortune,  though  reduced, 
has  been  adequate  to  the  expenses  of  a  first-rate  education  ;  he 
has  inherited  the  disinterestedness  of  his  father's  spirit,  for  I 
find  that  since  coming  of  age  he  has  vested  nearly  all  that  re- 
mained of  his  property  in  an  annuity  for  his  mother  ;  he  has 
a  few  thousand  dollars  left  to  start  with,  and  as  the  '  winds 
and  waves  arc  always  favorable  to  the  ablest  navigators,'  I  do 


156  REDWOOD. 

not  doubt  that  his  talents  and  industry  will  insure  him  suc- 
cess. As  to  his  '  accomplishments,'  Caroline,  you  and  I  affix 
probably  different  meanings  to  the  term,  and  therefore  I  will 
leave  you  to  satisfy  your  interrogatory  on  that  head  after  you 
shall  have  seen  him." 

"  Different  meanings,  papa !  every  body  knows  what  ac- 
complished means — does  he  speak  French  ? — does  he  ride 
well  ? — does  he  dance  well  ? — Is  he  comme  il  faut,  graceful, 
elegant,  and  high-bred,  and  all  that  ? — what  grandmama  calls 
genteel  ?" 

"  Oh  perfectly  genteel,  my  dear,"  replied  the  father  with  a 
bitter  smile,  "  he  was  born  and  bred  a  gentleman,  and  has  the 
mind  and  spirit  of  a  gentleman  ;  he  is,  I  am  told,  approved  by- 
wise  fathers,  courted  by  discreet  mothers,  and  what  you  will 
probably  consider  much  more  unequivocal  testimony — the 
favorite  of  fair  "daughters.  But,  Caroline,"  continued  Mr. 
Redwood,  checking  himself  from  the  fear  that  his  daughter 
would  perceive  his  solicitude  to  secure  her  favorable  opinion  of 
Westall,  "  your  long  confinement  to  the  house  has  robbed  you 
of  your  bloom.  The  rumor  of  your  beauty  has  doubtless 
reached  the  ears  of  my  young  friend,  and  I  should  be  sorry 
that  your  first  appearance  should  not  answer  his  expectations — 
ah,  there  goes  Miss  Bruce  on  one  of  her  walking  expeditions. 
Miss  Bruce,"  he  added,  speaking  to  Ellen  through  the  window, 
"  you  are  an  absolute  devotee  to  nature — will  you  permit  my 
daughter  to<be  the  companion  of  your  walk,  and  show  her  some 
of  the  shrines  at  which  you  worship  ?" 

"  I  am  only  an  admirer,  not  an  idolater,"  replied  Ellen, 
.smiling  ;  "  and  I  am  certain,  that  if  Miss  Redwood  will  do  me 
the  favor  to  go  with  me,  she  will  answer  for  me  that  my  homage 
is  reasonable."  Miss  Redwood  readily  acquiesced  in  the  ar- 
rangement— the  wish  to  restore  her  bloom  was  a  controlling 


REDWOOD.  157 

motive ;  and  the  animating  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Westalls  had  for  the  moment  made  her  forget  her  dislike  to 
Ellen  :  Lilly  was  summoned  with  her  hat  and  gloves,  and  the 
young  ladies  proceeded  arm  in  arm  towards  the  lake. 

"  What  a  delightful  compensation  we  have,"  said  Ellen, 
"  for  the  suffering  from  our  long  sultry  summer  days  in  the 
reviving  influence  of  the  approaching  evening  ;  its  sweet  cool 
breath  refreshes  all  nature,  and  restores  elasticity  and  vigor  to 
mind  and  body." 

"  You  have,  no  doubt,  an  advantage  in  your  cool  evenings," 
replied  Caroline,  "  the  only  one,  as  far  as  I  see,  of  the  north 
over  the  south." 

Ellen  suppressed  her  opinion — perhaps  partial — that  her 
companion  did  not  see  very  far.  "  I  am  not  such  a  bigot," 
said  she,  "  as  to  believe  that  your  country  does  not  possess,  in 
many  respects,  the  advantage  over  ours  ;  but  I  confess  I  have 
prejudices  so  strong  in  favor  of  our  lofty  hills,  deep  valleys, 
and  broad  lakes,  that  I  do  not  believe  I  should  ever  admire 
the  tame  level  of  Carolina  ;  but  it  is  hardly  necessary  for  me 
to  be  boastful  while  this  scene  is  itself  so  eloquently  pleading 
its  claims  to  your  admiration  :  look,  Miss  Redwood,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  where  the  lake  reflects  the  bright  tints  of  the  evening 
sky,  and  there  where  the  long  shadows  of  the  trees  seem  to 
sleep  on  its  bosom — is  there,  can  there  be  in  the  wide  world  a 
lovelier  spot  than  this  ?" 

"  It  may  be,"  replied  Caroline,  "  it  is,  no  doubt,  exceed- 
ingly pretty  ;  but  to  own  the  truth  to  you,  Miss  Bruce,  I  can 
never  forget  that  this  lake  shore  was  the  scene  of  our  disaster. 
After  that  horrible  storm  and  fright  it  is  natural  it  should 
have  no  beauty  in  my  eyes  ;  besides,  you  know,  one  that  is  not 
used  to  the  country  gets  so  tired  of  it,  that  it  is  quite  impossi- 
ble to  admire  it ;  but  see,"  she  added,  changing  her  languid 


158  REDWOOD. 

tone  to  one  nearly  as  animated  as  Ellen's  had  been,  and  point 
ing  to  a  branch  of  the  beautiful  wild  clematis  in  full  bloom  : 
"  See,  Miss  Bruce,  those  wild  flowers  that  are  growing  there 
close  to  the  water's  edge  ;  I  should  so  like  to  get  them  to  dress 
my  hair  against  the  Westalls  arrive  :  they  would  form  a  beau- 
tiful contrast.  I  had  a  bunch  of  snow-drops  last  winter  that 
all  the  world  said  were  particularly  becoming  to  me ;  these 
flowers  are  as  white  and  beautiful,  and  being  natural,  they 
would  have  quite  a  rural  pretty  effect." 

"  A  beautiful  effect  no  doubt,  Miss  Redwood,  but  alas  ! 
they  are  '  not  to  be  come  at  by  the  willing  hand  ;'  if  we  had 
the  imagination  of  some  poets,  who  are  fond  of  infusing  their 
own  sensations  into  flowers,  we  might  fancy  these  were  enjoy- 
ing their  security,  and  laughing  at  the  vanity  of  your  wishes." 

"  But,"  said  Caroline,  "  it  surely  is  not  impossible  to  get 
at  them  ;"  and  espying  a  fisherman's  canoe  which  was  fastened 
to  a  tree  against  which  they  were  standing,  she  proposed  to 
Ellen,  who,  she  said,  she  was  sure  knew  how  to  guide  it,  to 
procure  the  flowers  for  her. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Redwood,"  replied  Ellen,  "  I  am  no  water- 
nymph,  and  these  canoes  require  as  much  skill  to  guide  them 
as  the  egg-shells  in  which  witches  traverse  the  waters." 

"  But,  the  water  is  not  deep,"  insisted  Caroline,  "  and  if 
the  worst  happens  you  will  but  get  your  clothes  wet,  and  you 
have  nothing  on  that  can  be  injured — water  can't  hurt  a  com- 
mon white  dress,  you  know." 

The  inexorable  Ellen  resisted  this  argument,  though  Miss 
Redwood  enforced  it  by  a  rapid  glance  of  comparison  from 
Ellen's  simple  muslin  frock  to  her  own  richly-trimmed  silk 
dress. 

There  was  an  inlet  of  water  where  the  ladies  stood,  around 
which  the  margin  curved  to  the  point  where  the  flowers  grew 


REDWOOD.  159 

at  the  base  of  a  rock,  and  so  near  the  water's  edge  (for  the 
earth  had  been  worn  away  by  the  surge)  that  it  could  hardly 
be  said  from  which  element  they  sprung,  earth  or  water.  A 
small  birch-tree  had  grown  out  of  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  was 
completely  overgrown  by  a  grape-vine,  whose  strong,  sinewy 
stems  were  clasped  by  the  delicate  clematis.  The  massive  foli- 
age of  the  grape-vine  dropped  over  the  perpendicular  side  of 
the  rock,  and  was  reflected  in  the  still  water  below.  After 
Caroline's  last  argument  had  failed,  she  jumped  into  the  ca- 
noe herself,  and  unhooking  it  from  the  tree  to  which  it  was 
attached,  she  exultingly  exclaimed,  "  nothing  venture,  nothing 
have ;"  and  gayly  pushed  off  towards  the  object  of  her 
wishes. 

The  water  was  shallow,  and  apparently  there  was  not  the 
least  danger.  Caroline,  however,  had  given  too  powerful  an 
impetus  to  the  frail  bark  she  was  guiding,  and  it  struck  against 
the  rock  with  so  much  force  as  to  recoil  with  a  fluttering  mo- 
tion. Caroline  was  frightened,  and  increased  by  her  agitation 
the  irregular  motion  of  the  canoe  ;  Ellen  perceived  the  dan- 
gerous operation  of  her  terrors,  but  before  she  could  make  her 
comprehend  that  all  that  was  necessary  was  that  she  should 
sit  down  quietly,  Caroline  had  grasped  the  pendant  vine,  which 
was  strong  and  tenacious,  and  the  canoe  had  passed  from  un- 
der her.  It  drifted  a  few  yards,  and  then  remained  stationary 
at  the  base  of  the  rock.  The  rock  was  perpendicular,  and  too 
high  for  Miss  Redwood  to  reach  its  summit.  Ellen  perceived 
the  dilemma  in  which  Caroline's  fears  had  involved  her,  and 
adopted  the  only  mode  of  extricating  her  from  her  awkward 
situation.  She  ran  around  the  curve  of  the  shore,  ascended 
the  rock  where  the  ascent  was  gradual,  and  letting  herself 
down  as  gently  as  possible  into  the  canoe,  she  rowed  immedi- 
ately to  the  relief  of  the  distressed  damsel,  whose  arms  already 


160  E  ED  WOOD. 

trembled  with  the  weight  which  they  sustained.  "  Oh,  I  am 
dead  with  fright !"  she  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  a  certainty  of  re- 
covered safety  restored  to  her  the  use  of  her  tongue :  "  for 
heaven's  sake  tell  me,  Ellen,  how  you  got  to  me ;  I  thought 
you  dropped  from  the  skies."  Ellen  explained  that  she  had 
reached  her  by  natural  and  easy  means.  "  Well,"  said  Caro- 
line, "  it  was  very  good — very  kind  of  you — and  I  never,  never 
shall  forget  it ;  but  pray  get  me  back  to  the  shore — for  all  the 
flowers  in  Paradise  I  would  not  endure  such  another  fright." 

"  But  we  will  not,"  said  Ellen,  "  return  to  the  shore  with- 
out a  trophy  for  your  daring  to  venture  to  the  only  place  where 
even  fear  could  create  peril.  These  flowers/'  she  added,  pluck- 
ing them,  "  were  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief,  and  they  shall 
die  for  it." 

She  then  rowed  back  to  the  shore,  and  was  tastefully  ar- 
ranging the  flowers  in  Caroline's  hair,  saying,  at  the  same  time, 
that  "  if  she  had  made  herself  a  water-nymph,  they  would  still 
have  been  a  fit  coronal  for  her,"  when  the  attention  of  both 
the  ladies  was  attracted  by  the  rapid  approach  of  a  gentleman, 
whom  they  perceived  to  be  a  stranger.  A  frock-coat  and 
madras  cravat  announced  a  traveller  ;  and  a  brief  glance  of 
Caroline's  practised  eye  satisfied  her  who  it  must  be  that  so 
gracefully  wore  this  costume — and  as  he  came  up  to  them  she 
exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Westall !"  It  was  Charles  "Westall,  con- 
ducted by  little  Lucy  Lenox.  He  courteously  thanked  Miss 
Redwood  for  saving  him  from  the  awkward  necessity  of  intro- 
ducing himself.  He  had,  as  he  said,  just  arrived  at  Mr.  Lenox's 
with  his  mother,  and  had  been  sent  by  her  with  his  little  guide 
in  quest  of  Miss  Redwood  ;  that  while  descending  the  hill 
he  had  been  a  witness  of  Miss  Redwood's  danger,  and  had 
hastened  on  in  the  hope  of  being  so  fortunate  as  to  assist  at 
her  rescue  ;  but  fate  had  been  unkind  to  him,  for  the  pleasure 


REDWOOD.  161 

of  playing  the  hero  on  this  occasion  was  not  only  wrested  from 
him,  but  he  was  forced  to  witness  and  admire  the  celerity  with 
which  the  rescue  had  been  effected  without  his  aid.  Miss  Red- 
wood turned  to  introduce  Ellen,  but  she  had  walked  forward 
with  Lucy,  who,  with  childish  eagerness,  was  telling  her  how 
frightened  she  was  when  she  saw  her  slide  from  the  rock,  and 
that  for  a  million  Miss  Redwoods  she  would  not  have  had  Ellen 
run  the  risk  of  being  drowned. 

Never  was  there  a  happier  moment  for  the  power  of  Miss 
Redwood's  beauty.  The  joy  of  recovered  safety,  and  the  plea- 
sure of  surprise  had  deepened  her  color ;  her  gratitude  to 
Ellen  had  given  a  touch  of  unwonted  softness  to  her  expres- 
sion, and  the  simple  decoration  of  the  white  flowers  mingling 
with  her  jet  glossy  curls,  was  far  more  beautiful  than  their  usu- 
ally elaborate  arrangement. 

When  the  ceremony  of  introduction  to  Mrs.  Westall  was 
over,  and  Caroline  with  extraordinary  animation  had  expressed 
her  pleasure  at  the  interview,  Mrs.  Westall,  impatient  to  ascer- 
tain the  first  impression  on  her  son,  whispered,  "  Charles,  is 
she  as  beautiful  as  you  expected  ?" 

"  As  beautiful,  mother  !  you  do  too  much  honor  to  my  ima- 
gination ;  she  is  more  beautiful  than  any  vision  of  my  dull 
brain." 

For  a  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  Westalls  the  "  sands 
of  time "  were  "  diamond  sparks "  to  the  visitors  at  Eaton. 
Charles  Westall  and  Caroline  Redwood  seemed  verging  to- 
wards that  point  of  happy  agreement  so  much  desired  by  both 
their  parents — desired  by  Mr.  Redwood,  because  his  experi- 
ence had  taught  him  that  virtue  is  the  only  basis  of  confidence 
or  happiness,  and  with  an  inconsistency  not  uncommon  or  sur- 
prising, he  preferred  that  virtue  should  be  fortified  by  religious 
principle.  He  had  preserved  an  affectionate  recollection  of 


162  REDWOOD. 

Westall's  father,  and  he  fancied  that  he  was  paying  him  a  trib- 
ute in  giving  to  his  son  the  noble  fortune  of  his  own  child,  and 
when  his  conscience  whispered  that  the  fortune  was  a  poor 
compensation  for  the  incumbrance  that  went  with  it,  he  found 
some  consolation  in  attributing  Caroline's  faults  to  the  bad 
influence  of  her  grandmother,  and  in  the  hope  that,  young  as 
she  was,  her  character  might  be  remoulded.  All  that  he  had 
heard  of  Westall  from  the  reports  of  others,  or  had  gathered 
from  occasional  correspondence  with  him,  had  inspired  regard 
for  him  ;  that  regard  was  now  becoming  affection.  Charles 
Westall's  resemblance  to  his  father  recalled  to  him  the  early 
and  happiest  period  of  his  life,  that  period  when  his  heart  was 
light,  and  his  mind  unclouded  by  the  dark  shadows  that  a  vain 
and  false  philosophy  had  since  cast  upon  it. 

Mr.  Redwood's  apprehensions  that  Captain  Fitzgerald  had 
taken  such  possession  of  his  daughter's  imagination  as  to  en- 
danger the  success  of  a  rival,  vanished  when  he  perceived  that 
she  devoted  herself  with  characteristic  childishness  to  the 
present  object.  Of  the  happy  result  of  her  efforts  to  captivate 
Charles  Westall  he  had  no  doubt ;  and  common  experience 
would  perhaps  justify  his  conclusion  that  no  young  man  could 
resist  the  apparent  preference  of  a  spirited  young  beauty  with 
fortune  enough  to  outweigh  a  thousand  faults.  A  superficial 
observation  satisfied  him  that  he  was  secure  of  Mrs.  Westall's 
influence  for  his  daughter  ;  he  perceived  that  the  progress  of 
time  had  not  diminished  the  worldliness  of  disposition  which 
his  sagacity  had  detected  even  when  it  was  sheltered  by  the 
charms  of  youth. 

Mrs.  Westall  was  one  of  those  ladies  who  are  universal 
favorites :  her  face  was  pleasing,  her  person  graceful,  and  her 
manners  courteous  ;  with  these  medium  charms,  she  attracted 
attention  without  provoking  envy  :  she  had  no  strong-holds  in 


REDWOOD.  163 

her  mind  for  prejudice  or  austere  principle,  She  was  one  of 
that  large  class  who  take  their  form  and  pressure  from  the  so- 
ciety in  which  they  happen  to  be  cast ; — a  thorough  conformist. 
In  *ur  eastern  country,  she  was,  if  not  strict,  quite  exact  in 
her  religious  observances.  She  would  have  preferred  the  leni- 
ent bosom  of  episcopacy,  because  of  its  agreeable  medium  be- 
tween the  latitudinarians  and  the  puritans,  and  perhaps  too  on 
account  of  its  superior  gentility.  But  as  her  location  in  a 
country  town  precluded  the  privilege  of  choice,  she  offered  an 
edifying  example,  by  quietly  waiting  on  the  services  of  a  con- 
gregational meeting  every  Sunday,  and  occasionally  attending 
a  '  'ecture '  or  a  '  conference '  during  the  week.  She  contrib- 
uted to  the  utmost  limit  of  her  ability  to  the  good  and  religious 
objects  that  engage  the  zeal  and  affections  of  our  community. 
This  virtuous  conduct  was  more  the  effect  of  imitation  than  of 
independent  opinion ;  for  Mrs.  Westall,  with  the  resources  of 
fortune  and  in  fashionable  life,  had  remonstrated  with  some 
energy  (she  was  not  capable  of  much)  against  the  strictness 
and  enthusiasm  of  her  husband.  If  again  restored  to  the 
world,  she  would  without  an  effort  have  conformed  to  its  usages, 
and  endured  the  excesses  of  high-life  dissipation.  In  one  of 
our  cities  she  might  have  held  Sunday  evening  levees,  or  in 
Paris  have  strolled  out  the  day  of  "  holy  rest "  in  the  public 
gardens,  or  forgotten  it  at  the  opera,  or  a  fashionable  card 
party. 

How  such  a  woman  could  interest  Edmund  Westall,  those 
only  ought  to  inquire  who  have  never  observed  how  much  early 
attachments  are  controlled  by  local  and  (as  it  seems)  purely  ac- 
cidental circumstances.  Westall,  during  his  college  life,  re- 
sided in  the  family  of  his  wife's  parents.  He  was  captivated 
by  the  sweetness  of  her  temper  and  the  grace  of  her  manners , 
he  trusted  for  the  rest  with  the  facility  of  youthful  love,  that 


164  REDWOOD. 

hopes,  believes,  and  expects  all  things.  He  did  not  live  long 
enough  to  awake  from  the  lover's  dream,  though  he  occasion- 
ally saw  a  trait  of  worldliness,  which  he  imputed  to  the  humble 
circumstances  in  which  his  wife  had  been  bred,  thinking  that 
they  (as  they  too  often  do)  had  led  her  to  an  undue  estimation 
of  the  advantages  of  wealth,  rank,  and  fashion.  Westall  was 
deemed  an  enthusiast,  and  perhaps  he  was  so,  for  his  interest 
iii  the  happiness  of  others  often  led  him  to  a  singular  forget- 
fulness  of  himself,  and  his  means  were  sometimes  inadequate 
to  effect  his  benevolent  and  philanthropic  plans.  Like  other 
enthusiasts,  he  was  apt  to  forget  that  the  materials  he  had  to 
work  with  were  sordid  and  earthly,  and,  like  them,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  endure  the  ridicule  of  those  base  spirits  that  were 
making  idols  of  their  silver  and  their  gold,  while  he  was  on  the 
mount  in  the  service  of  the  living  God.  Charles  Westall  was 
four  years  old  when  he  lost  this  parent :  the  recollections  he 
preserved  of  him  were  like  the  "  glimpse  a  saint  has  of  heaven 
in  his  dreams."  He  remembered  being  led  by  him  to  the 
cabins  of  his  infirm  or  sick  slaves,  and  some  particulars  of  his 
humane  attentions  to  them.  He  recollected  the  melting  ten- 
derness of  his  eye  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  when  he  had  com- 
mended him  for  a  kind  action.  But  his  most  vivid  impression 
was  of  the  last  moment  of  his  father's  life,  when  he  had  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  child's  head,  and  in  the  act  of  resigning  him, 
had  fervently  prayed  that  he  might  be  kept  "  unspotted  from 
the  world."  Charles  could  not  then  comprehend  the  full  im- 
port of  the  words  ;  but  afterwards,  amidst  the  temptations  of 
life,  he  felt  their  efficacy.  At  an  early  period  his  mother  had 
given  into  his  possession  his  father's  private  papers.  Through 
them  he  came  to  an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  father's  charac- 
ter— of  his  many  virtuous  efforts  and  sacrifices — of  his  hopes 
and  fears  in  relation  to  himself — of  his  deepest  and  holiest 


REDWOOD.  165 

feelings  :  thus  the  son  was  admitted  into  the  sanctuary  of  the 
father's  heart,  and  held,  as  it  were,  a  spiritual  communion  with 
him.  From  these  precious  documents  Charles  Westall  real- 
ized all  that  has  been  hoped  from  the  ministry  of  a  guardian 
spirit ;  they  became  a  kind  of  external  conscience  to  him : 
saving  him  from  many  an  error  into  which  the  buoyant  careless 
spirit  of  youth  might  otherwise  have  betrayed  him.  Few  liv- 
ing parents  exert  such  an  influence  over  the  character  of  a 
child. 


1 66  BED  WOOD. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  They're  here  that  ken  and  here  that  dinna  ken, 
The  wimpled  meaning  o'  your  unco  tale, 
Whilk  soon  will  make  a  noise  o'er  muir  and  dale. ' 

RAMSAY'S  GENTLE  SHEPHERD. 

THOSE  only  who  have  observed  the  magical  effect  produced 
upon  a  young  lady  by  the  presence  of  a  candidate  for  her  fa- 
vor, whom  she  deems  it  worth  her  efforts  to  obtain  or  retain, 
can  have  an  adequate  notion  of  the  change  wrought  on  Caro- 
line Redwood  since  the  arrival  of  the  Westalls.  Instead  of 
the  listless,  sullen  girl,  who  yawned  away  her  days  in  discon- 
tent or  apathy,  she  became  spirited,  active,  and  good-humored. 
Even  her  interest  in  the  concerns  of  Ellen  Bruce,  and  her 
suspicions  of  that  artless  girl's  designs,  were  suspended  in  the 
ardor  of  her  present  pursuit,  and  she  seemed  to  think  of 
nothing  and  to  care  for  nothing  but  how  she  should  secure  the 
triumph  of  her  vanity.  Every  one  noticed  the  change,  (ex- 
cepting Ellen,  who  had  of  late  almost  wholly  withdrawn  from 
the  family  circle.)  indeed  it  was  so  manifest  that  Miss  Deborah, 
who  had  taken  a  decided  dislike  to  Caroline,  and  who  was 
rather  remarkable  for  the  inveteracy  of  her  opinions,  was 
heard  to  say,  that  "  since  the  girl's  sweetheart  had  come,  she 
was  as  bright  as  a  September  day  after  the  fog  was  lifted  ;  but 


REDWOOD.  167 

for  her  part  she  liked  to  see  people  have  in'ard  sunshine  like 
Ellen."  This  declaration  was  made  by  Miss  Debby  in  an  im- 
prudently loud  tone  of  voice,  as  she  stood  at  a  window  gazing 
on  Mr.  Redwood's  carriage  that  had  been  ordered  for  an  after- 
noon's drive.  Mr.  Redwood,  Caroline,  and  Mrs.  Westall  were 
already  in  the  carriage,  and  Charles  Westall  had  returned  to 
the  parlor  in  quest  of  some  article  Mr.  Redwood  had  forgot- 
ten ;  while  he  was  looking  for  it  Deborah's  comment  fell  on 
his  ear,  and  probably  gave  a  new  direction  to  his  thoughts,  for 
during  the  ride  Caroline  rallied  him  on  his  extraordinary  pen- 
siveness ;  and  finally  perceiving  that  his  gravity  resisted  all 
her  efforts  to  dissipate  it,  she  proposed  that  if  he  had  not  lost 
the  use  of  his  limbs  as  well  as  of  his  tongue,  he  should  alight 
from  the  carriage  with  her  and  walk  to  a  cottage  to  which  they 
perceived  a  direct  path  through  a  field,  while  the  carriage  ap- 
proached by  the  high  road  which  ran  along  the  lake  shore  and 
was  circuitous.  Westall  assented  rather  with  politeness  than 
eagerness  ;  but  when  he  was  alone  with  Caroline,  when  she 
roused  all  her  powers  to  charm  him,  he  yielded  to  the  influence 
of  her  beauty  and  her  vivacity.  Never  had  she  appeared  so 
engaging — never  so  beautiful — the  afternoon  was  delicious — 
their  path  ran  along  the  skirts  of  an  enchanting  wood — its 
soft  shadows  fell  over  them,  the  birds  poured  forth  their  mel- 
ody ;  and  in  short,  all  nature  conspired  to  stimulate  the  lover's 
imagination  and  to  quicken  his  sensibility.  Charles  forgot  the 
sage  resolutions  he  had  made  to  withhold  his  declaration  till 
he  had  satisfied  certain  doubts  that  had  sometimes  obtruded 
on  him,  that  all  in  Caroline  was  not  as  fair  and  lovely  as 
it  seemed ;  he  forgot  Miss  Deborah's  hint — forgot  every  thing 
but  the  power  and  the  presence  of  his  beautiful  companion, 
and  only  hesitated  for  language  to  express  what  his  eyes  had 
already  told  her.  At  this  moment  both  his  and  Miss  Red- 


168  REDWOOD. 

wood's  attention  was  withdrawn  from  themselves  to  a  little 
girl  who  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  cottage,  from  which  they 
were  now  not  many  yards  distant.  On  perceiving  them  she 
bounded  over  the  door-step,  then  stopped,  put  up  her  hand  to 
shade  her  eyes  from  the  sun,  and  gazed  fixedly  on  them  for  a 
moment,  then  again  sprang  forward,  again  stopped,  covered 
her  eyes  with  both  her  hands,  threw  herself  at  full  length  on 
the  grass,  laid  her  ear  to  the  ground  and  seemed  for  a  moment 
to  listen  intently ;  she  then  rose,  put  her  apron  to  her  eyes, 
and  appeared  to  be  weeping,  while  she  retraced  her  way  lan- 
guidly to  the  cottage.  Caroline  and  Westall,  moved  by  the 
.same  impulse,  quickened  their  pace,  and  in  a  few  moments 
reached  the  cottage  door,  to  which  a  woman  had  been  attracted 
by  the  sobs  of  the  child,  and  was  expostulating  with  her  in  an 
earnest  tone.  "  God  help  us,  Peggy,  you'll  just  ruin  all  if  you 
go  on  in  this  way ;"  she  paused  on  perceiving  that  the  child 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  strangers  ;  and  in  reply  to 
Westall's  asking  what  ailed  the  little  girl,  she  said,  "  it's  just 
her  simplicity,  sir  ;  but  if  you  and  the  lady  will  condescend  to 
walk  into  my  poor  place  here,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  or 
Peggy  shall  tell  it  herself,  for  when  she  gets  upon  it  her  tongue 
runs  faster  than  mine :  but  bless  us,  here  comes  a  grand  coach 
— look  up,  Peggy,  you  never  saw  a  real  coach  in  your  life. 
Peggy  now  let  fall  the  apron  with  which  she  had  covered 
her  face — a  face  if  not  beautiful,  full  of  feeling  and  intelli- 
gence. She  seemed  instantly  to  forget  her  affliction,  whatever 
it  was,  in  the  pleasure  of  gazing  on  the  spectacle  of  a  real 
coach.  "  Ah,  Aunt  Betty,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  is  the  grand 
sick  gentleman  that  is  staying  at  Mr.  Lenox's."  The  carriage 
drew  up  to  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Westall  and  Mr.  Redwood,  at- 
tracted by  the  uncommonly  neat  appearance  of  the  cottage, 
alighted  and  followed  Caroline  and  Charles,  who  had  already 


REDWOOD.  169 

entered  it.  The  good  woman,  middle-aged,  and  of  a  cheerful 
countenance,  was  delighted  with  the  honor  conferred  on  her, 
bustled  around  to  furnish  seats  for  her  guests — shook  up  the 
cushion  of  a  rocking-chair  for  Mr.  Redwood,  "and  made  a 
thousand  apologies  for  the  confusion  and  dirt  of  her  house, 
which  had  the  usual  if  not  the  intended  effect  of  calling  forth 
abundance  of  compliments  on  its  perfect  order  and  neatness. 
"  And  now,  Peggy,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  they  were  all  quietly 
seated,  "  take  the  pitcher  and  bring  some  cold  water  from  the 
spring,  that's  what  the  poor  have,  thank  God,  as  good  as  the 
rich,  and  it  is  all  we  have  to  offer."  The  little  girl  obeyed, 
and  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  hearing,  the  woman  turned  to 
Westall.  "  It  was  your  wish,  sir,  to  know  what  ailed  the  child  ; 
the  poor  thing  has  just  got  the  use  of  her  eye-sight,  and  she 
has  been  expecting  some  one  that  she  loves  better  than  all  the 
world  ;  and  when  she  saw  this  young  lady  with  you,  she  thought 
it  was  her  friend — though  to  be  sure  she  is  shorter  than  this 
lady  ;  but  then  Peggy,  poor  thing,  does  not  see  quite  right  yet, 
and  then  when  she  is  puzzled,  she  just  lies  down  to  the  ground 
as  you  saw  her,  for  that  was  her  way  to  listen,  and  she 
knows  Miss  Ellen's  step,  for  as  light  as  it  is,  wnen  my  poor 
ear  can't  hear  a  sound." 

"  How  did  she  become  blind,  my  good  woman,  and  how  did 
she  recover  her  sight  ?"  asked  Westall. 

"It  is  a  long  story,  sir:  when  she  was  one  year  old, 
she  laid  in  the  measles,  and  her  mother  dying  at  the  same 
time,  and  I  sick  of  a  fever,  and  the  child,  God  forgive  me, 
was  neglected,  and  there  came  a  blind  over  her  eyes,  and 
shut  them  up  in  darkness."  "  Not  all  darkness,"  said  the  little 
heroine  of  the  story,  who  re-entered  with  the  water,  "you 
know,  Aunt  Betty,  I  could  see  a  glimmer  of  sunshine." 

"  Yes,  and  that  it  was  that  gave  the  doctor  hopes  of  her."     "  No, 
8 


170  REDWOOD. 

no,"  interrupted  the  child,  "  it  was  Miss  Ellen  that  gave  tbe 
doctor  hopes." 

"  Lord  bless  her,"  continued  the  woman,  smiling,  "  Peggy 
thinks  there's  nothing  good  done  in  the  world,  but  Miss  Ellen 
does  it,  and,  to  be  sure,  she  has  been  an  angel  to  Peggy." 

"  And  how,"  asked  Mr.  Redwood,  whose  interest  in  Peggy's 
history  seemed  much  augmented  since  the  mention  of  Miss  El- 
len— "  how  came  Miss  Bruce  to  know  your  child  ?" 

"  God  brought  them  together,  sir ;  it  was  his  own  work ; 
but  the  child  is  not  mine,  her  poor  mother  lies  in  the  grave- 
yard there  in  the  village,  far  from  all  her  own  people,  for  we 
are  from  Old  England,  sir.  My  sister,  poor  Fanny,  was  a  wild 
thing,  the  youngest  of  ten  of  us,  and  I  the  oldest.  My  mother 
died,  and  left  her  a  baby  in  my  arms ;  and  she  was  like  my 
own,  and  we  all,  and  father  more  than  all,  petted  her,  and  when 
she  was  sixteen,  she  had  just  her  own  way,  and  married  a 
young  soldier  lad  of  our  village,  and  my  father  turned  her 
from  his  door,  and  would  not  hear  to  forgiving  her :  but  I, 
Lord  help  me  !  I  had  no  right  not  to  forgive  her  ;  and  so  I 
came  over  to  Canada  with  her  when-  her  husband's  regiment 
was  ordere^there.  I  had  a  little  money  of  my  own,  and  we 
paM  our  own  way,  but  when  that  was  gone  our  distresses  and 
hardships  threw  her  in  the  consumption.  Her  husband  got 
into  bad  company,  deserted,  and  came  off  to  the  States ;  we 
followed — she  with  the  baby — Peggy  that  is — in  her  arms. 
We  persuaded  her  husband  to  take  this  bit  of  a  place,  but  he 
soon  left  us,  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  Fanny  died,  and  left  me 
alone  in  the  world,  as  you  may  say,  with  Peggy — and  she 
blind ;  but,  sir,  I  have  always  been  of  a  contented  disposition, 
and  I  meant  to  be  resigned  to  whatever  it  pleased  the  Lord  to 
send  upon  me ;  but  I  must  own,  when  I  found  Peggy  was  blind, 
and  the  doctors  told  jfte  nothing  could  be  done  for  her,  I  had 


REDWOOD.  171 

my  match. — It  was  the  bitterest  sorrow  I  ever  felt  when  life 
was  spared,  but  I  thought  to  myself,  what  can't  be  cured  must  be 
endured  ;  so  I  went  to  work.  The  Lord  has  blessed  us,  and 
Peggy  and  I  have  lived  these  six  years  as  comfortable  and  as  con- 
tented, may  be,  as  those  that  are  richer,  and  seem  to  be  happier." 
"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,  my  good  woman,"  said  Mr.  Redwood, 
struck  with  admiration  of  the  simple  creature's  practical  phi- 
losophy ;  "  but  you  have  told  us  so  much  of  your  story  that 
you  mus  give  us  the  rest." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  little  Peggy,  "  do,  Aunt  Betty,  tell  them 
about  Miss  Ellen,  they'll  like  to  hear  that  best  of  all :  now 
don't  go  away,"  said  she,  turning  to  Caroline,  who  had  risen 
from  her  chair,  and  was  walking  towards  the  door. 

"  I  am  not  going  away,  child,"  she  answered,  pettishly,  "  I 
prefer  standing  at  the  door." 

"  It  is  five  weeks  to-morrow,"  continued  the  narrator, 
"  since  I  first  saw  Miss  Ellen  ;  it  was  the  very  morning  after 
young  Mr.  Allen's  funeral.  I  saw  her  that  morning  and  the 
next,  sitting  on  that  rock,  by  the  elm-tree  yonder,  ladies ;  she 
had  a  pencil  in  her  hand,  and  a  big  book  on  her  lap,  and  a 
paper  on  it;  and  the  second  morning  Peggy  heard  her  hum- 
ming some  songs  to  herself,  and  she  crept  close  to  her  :  the 
silly  thing  would  any  time  leave  her  breakfast  for  an  end  of 
a  song.  I  saw  the  young  lady  noticed  Peggy,  and  then  I 
made  bold  to  walk  up  to  her  ;  and  will  you  believe  me,  ladies  ! 
she  had  been  picturing  on  her  paper  this  little  hut  and  the  half 
withered  tree,  and  that  old  bench  with  my  wash-tub  turned  up 
on  it,  and  my  old  cow  as  she  stands  eating  her  morning  mess, 
and  Peggy  stroking  her  !  and  I  could  not  but  ask  her  why  she 
did  not  choose  to  draw  out  some  of  the  nice  houses  in  the 
village  with  two  chimneys,  and  a  square  roof  to  them,  and  a 
pretty  fence  to  the  door-yard,  and  the  straight,  tall  poplars  ; 


1 72  REDWOOD. 

but  she  smiled,  and  said,  'this  suited  her  fancy  better ;'  and  then 
she  began  talking  to  me  of  Peggy,  and  when  she  found  she 
was  quite  blind,  she  just  laid  down  her  pencil  and  her  book 
and  all,  and  took  the  child  in  her  lap,  and  said,  '  something 
must  be  done  for  her ;'  and  when  she  said  so,  the  tears  stood 
in  her  blue  eyes  ;  and  God  knows,  I  never  saw  tears  so  becom- 
ing ;  and  from  that  time,  ladies,  she  came  every  morning  and 
sat  here  three  or  four  hours,  teaching  Peggy  to  sew,  and  learn- 
ing her  hymns  and  songs." 

"  Caroline,  Caroline,  do  you  hear  that  ?"  asked  Mr.  Red- 
wood, impetuously. 

"  Lord,  papa,  I  am  not  deaf — certainly  I  hear." 

"  Go  on,  good  woman,"  said  Mr.  Redwood. 

"  The  child's  quickness,  sir,"  continued  the  aunt,  "  seemed 
a  miracle  to  me,  for,  God  forgive  me,  I  had  never  thought  of 
her  learning  any  thing.  Peggy,  get  those  bags  you  made,  that 
Miss  Ellen  said  you  might  sell." 

The  child  instantly  produced  the  bags,  which  were  made  of 
bits  of  calico  very  neatly  sewn  together.  Caroline  interrupted 
the  story  while  she  bargained  with  the  little  girl  for  the  bags, 
for  which  she  paid  her  munificently. 

The  aunt  seemed  more  sensible  of  the  extent  of  Miss  Red- 
wood's generosity  than  the  child,  for  she  was  voluble  in  her 
thanks ;  and  then  proceeded  to  say  that  Miss  Ellen,  not  satis- 
fied with  doing  so  much,  brought  Doctor  Bristol  to  look  at 
Peggy's  eyes.  "  Doctor  Bristol,"  she  said,  "  had  come  to  live 
in  Eton  since  she  had  given  up  Peggy's  eyes  as  quite  gone, 
and  therefore  she  had  never  shown  the  child  to  him.  But 
Doctor  Bristol  had  learned  some  new-fashioned  ways  that 
other  doctors  in  the  country  knew  nothing  about,  and  as  soon 
as  he  looked  at  the  child,  he  said  one  of  the  eyes  might  be 
restored.  Then  poor  Peggy  was  so  frightened  with  the  thought 


REDWOOD.  ]  73 

of  an  operation,  and  I  could  do  nothing  with  her,  for  I  had 
always  let  her  have  her  own  way ;  for  who,  ladies,  could  have 
the  heart  to  cross  a  blind  child?  But  Miss  Ellen,  God  bless 
her,  could  always  make  her  mind  without  crossing  her,  for  she 
loves  Miss  Ellen  better  than  any  thing  on  earth,  or  in  heaven 
either,  I  fear  me ;  and  she  would  liken  her  to  strawberries  and 
roses,  and  every  thing  that  was  most  pleasant  to  the  senses  the 
poor  thing  had  left :  and  she  would  say  that  her  voice  was 
sweeter  than  the  music  of  birds,  or  the  sound  of  the  waters 
breaking  on  the  shore,  when  a  gentle  breeze  came  over  the 
lake  of  a  still  evening,  for  that  was  the  sound  she  loved  lest 
of  all,  and  would  listen  to  it  sometimes  for  an  hour  together 
without  speaking  or  moving." 

It  seemed  that  Miss  Redwood's  patience  could  no  longer 
brook  the  minute  and  excursive  style  of  the  narrator,  as  she 
proposed  to  Mrs.  Westall  in  a  whisper,  that  they  should  cut  the 
woman's  never-ending  story  short,  and  pursue  their  ride.  Mrs. 
Westall  acquiesced,  with  a  'just  as  you  please,  my  dear;'  but 
Mr.  Redwood,  guessing  the  purport  of  his  daughter's  whisper, 
interposed  with  a  request  in  a  low  voice,  that  she  would  not 
prolong  their  delay  by  interrupting  the  good  woman's  story,  as 
the  pain  in  his  arm  warned  him  that  it  was  time  for  him  to 
return ;  then  turning  to  the  aunt,  he  asked  her  "  how  she 
brought  the  girl  finally  to  consent  to  the  operation  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  was  Miss  Ellen  that  made  her  consent,  and  she 
would  only  do  it  by  promising  that  she  would  stay  by  her  and 
hold  her  head.  God  knows,  I  could  not  have  done  it,  well  as  I 
love  her,  to  have  saved  her  eyes ;  for  I  was  all  in  a  shiver  when 
I  saw  the  doctor  fix  her  by  that  window,  and  Miss  Ellen  stood 
behind  her,  and  Peggy  leaned  her  head  back  on  to  Miss  Ellen's 
breast,  and  one  of  Miss  Ellen's  hands  was  on  the  child's  fore- 
head, and  the  other  under  her  chin,  and  she  looked,  God  bless 


174  REDWOOD. 

^ 

her,  as  white  as  marble  and  as  beautiful  as  an  angel.  I  had 
but  a  glance  at  them,  for  when  the  doctor  took  out  his  long 
needle  I  covered  my  eyes,  till  I  heard  them  say  it  was  all  over, 
and  Peggy  had  not  made  a  movement  or  a  groan.  Miss  Ellen 
bade  me  not  to  speak  yet,  and  the  bandage  was  put  over  the 
child's  eyes,  and  she  was  laid  there  on  the  bed,  and  Miss  Ellen 
motioned  me  to  go  out  with  her,  and  as  I  stepped  from  the 
door,  she  sunk  like  a  dying  person  into  my  arms ;  but  still  it 
seemed  she  could  only  think  of  Peggy,  for  she  put  up  her  hand 
for  a  sign  to  me  to  be  quiet,  and  then  the  breath  seemed  quite 
gone  out  of  her.  I  laid  her  on  the  turf  and  fetched  some  cold 
water,  and  she  soon  came  to  herself,  and  bade  me  say  nothing 
of  it  to  the  doctor,  and  she  came  in  again  and  told  the  doctor 
she  should  come  back  in  the  evening  and  sit  the  night  with 
Peggy,  for  she  would  trust  no  one  else  for  the  first  night,  for 
the  doctor  said  all  depended  on  keeping  her  quiet ;  and  the 
last  word  she  said,  was  to  beg  he  would  not  tell  any  of  the 
family  at  Mr.  Lenox's  that  she  was  coming  here,  for  they,  she 
said,  fancied  she  was  not  well,  and  would  not  permit  it.:)  At 
this  simple  explanation  of  the  absence  which  Caroline  had 
placed  in  a  suspicious  light,  her  father  turned  on  her  a  look 
full  of  meaning ;  she  blushed  deeply,  but  neither  spoke,  and 
the  aunt  proceeded.  "  All  went  on  well  to  the  third  day,  and 
then  Miss  Ellen  came  with  leave  to  take  off  the  bandge,  and 
she  asked  Peggy  what  she  wished  most  in  the  world  to  see. 
"  Oh,  you,  you,  Miss  Ellen,"  she  said ;  and  then  the  dear  young 
lady  stood  before  her,  and  took  off  the  bandage ;  and  then, 
bless  you,  ladies,  her  piercing  scream  of  joy  when  the  light 
touched  her  eye — oh  ! — I  heard  my  father  curse  poor  Fanny 
— I  saw  her  die  in  a  strange  land ;  but  never  any  thing 
went  so  deep  into  my  heart  as  that  scream.  I  fell  on 
my  knees,  and  heard  nothing  and  saw  nothing,  till  I  felt 


REDWOOD.  175 

Peggy's  arms  round  my  neck,  and  heard  her  say, '  Oh,  aunt, 
I  see  her — I  see  you.'" 

Many  more  eloquent  tales  have  produced  less  sensation 
than  the  simple  story  of  this  good  aunt.  Mrs.  Westall  wiped 
the  tears  from  her  eyes ;  Caroline  put  her  handkerchief  to 
hers;  Mr.  Redwood's  speaking  face  showed  that  other  and 
deeper  feelings  than  compassion  and  sympathy  had  been 
awakened ;  and  Charles,  who  had  drawn  the  little  girl  close 
to  him,  asked  a  hundred  questions  in  relation  to  Miss  Bruce, 
and  expressed  by  his  caresses  his  pleasure  in  her  simple  ex- 
pressions of  gratitude  and  love 

The  party  now  took  a  very  kind  leave  of  Peggy  and  her 
aunt,  and  returned  home — all  in  rather  a  contemplative  frame 
of  mind.  Mr.  Redwood  once  turned  abruptly  to  his  daughter, 
and  asked  her  if  she  remembered  the  quotation  he  had  made  to 
her,  that  the  "  simplest  characters  sometimes  baffle  all  the  art 
of  decipherers  ?" 

"  She  remembered  it,"  she  said,  "  but  for  her  part,  she  could 
not  see  the  interest  of  your  very  simple  characters ;  they  might 
be  very  good,  and  useful,  and  all  that."  After  they  reached 
home,  the  ceremony  of  tea  came  in  aid  of  Caroline's  efforts, 
and  changed  the  train  of  association,  and  seconded  by  Mrs. 
Westall,  she  succeeded  in  exciting  a  more  lively  tone  of  spirits 
in  the  party;  but  fate  seemed  determined  not  to  suspend  its 
persecutions,  for  after  tea,  when  she  seemed  quite  to  have  for- 
gotten the  incidents  of  the  ride,  and  her  gayety  had  arrived  to 
its  usual  pitch,  it  was  suddenly  checked  by  Miss  Deborah,  who 
came  into  the  parlor  and  informed  Mr.  Redwood  "  that  Billy 
Raymond,  the  lame  boy  that  supported  his  old  mother  by  fish- 
ing, had  called  to  see  if  the  stranger  gentleman  would  have  the 
generosity  to  pay  him  the  damages  for  his  fishing-tackle,  that 
Miss  Redwood  had  lost  at  the  time  of  her  frolic  in  his  canoe  ?" 


176  REDWOOD. 

This  was  the  first  time  Mr.  Redwood  had  heard  any  hint  of 
the  canoe  adventure,  and  he  inquired  into  the  particulars. 
Caroline  carelessly  detailed  them,  and  Mr.  Redwood,  ascer^ 
taining  from  Deborah  the  amount  of  the  boy:s  loss,  gave  her  a 
sum  for  the  applicant  which  she  deemed  a  most  liberal  com- 
pensation, for  shaking  the  silver  in  her  hand,  while  her  eye 
glistened  with  an  honest  joy  at  the  good  fortune  of  her  pro- 
tege"— 

"  Thank'e,  thank'e,  squire,"  said  she,  "  this  is  profit,  and 
no  loss  to  Bill — the  lad  is  a  worthy  lad,  and  thank  the  Lord, 
his  bread  has  not  been  cast  on  the  waters  without  coming  to 
him  again.  It  is  well,  young  folks,"  she  continued,  turning 
her  eyes  on  Miss  Redwood  and  Westall — "  it  is  well  when  the 
heart  and  the  purse  of  a  gentleman  fall  in  company — here," 
and  she  opened  her  hand  and  surveyed  the  glittering  coins, 
"  here  is  what  will  make  a  young  heart  leap  with  joy — and  an, 
old  one  too,  and  that  is  not  so  easy  a  matter — and  after  all, 
squire,  it  is  but  a  drop  from  your  full  bucket.  Oh,  you  rich 
ones  might  be  godlike  on  the  earth  if  ye  would." 

"  And  how,  Miss  Debby  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Redwood,  pleased 
with  her  earnestness  ;  "  if  you  will  furnish  me  an  easy  rule  I 
may  possibly  adopt  it." 

"  Make  the  cause  of  the  poor  thine  own :  the  rule  is  not 
overly  easy,  squire,  as  may  be  you  have  found.  It  is  a  hard  tug 
to  keep  up  with  them  scripter  rules,  they  are  all  ahead  of  us." 

"  Miss  Deborah's  sagacity  or  experience,"  observed  Westall 
to  Mr.  Redwood,  "  has  led  her  to  one  of  the  most  satisfactory 
proofs  of  the  divine  origin  of  our  religion."  Mr.  Redwood 
averted  his  eyes,  and  adjusted  the  sling  of  his  arm,  while  Caro- 
line, putting  up  her  fan  to  shelter  herself  from  her  father's  ob- 
servation, whispered,  ;'  Mr.  Westall !  do  you  not  know  that 
papa  is  an  infidel  ?" 


REDWOOD.  177 

"  Your  father  ?" 

"  Oh  yes — it  is  indeed  quite  shocking  " — how  far  the  sud- 
den gravity  of  Westall's  face  would  have  prompted  her  to  pro- 
ceed in  her  lamentations,  is  uncertain,  for  her  attention  was 
called  by  her  father,  who,  willing  to  divert  the  conversation 
from  the  channel  into  which  it  had  fallen,  asked  her  why  she 
had  never  mentioned  the  affair  of  the  canoe  to  him  ? 

"  Oh,  I  quite  forgot  it,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  in  my  pleasure 
at  seeing  Mrs.  Westall " — and  her  son.  her  eyes  added,  as  she 
sent  a  sparkling  glance  to  Charles.  Her  reply  did  not  appear 
entirely  to  satisfy  Westall,  even  with  the  flattering  appendage 
to  it  which  her  kind  look  had  supplied  ;  after  musing  a  mo- 
ment he  said,  "  I  hope  Miss  Redwood  has  not  forgotten  her 
friend's  presence  of  mind  on  that  occasion  ?" 

"  Miss  Bruce's  ? — certainly  not — though  it  deprived  me  of 
the  romance  of  being  rescued  by  you;  Mr.  Westall,  which  you 
know  would  have  been  a  charming  opening  to  our  acquaintance 
— quite  an  incident  for  a  novel." 

"  I  don't  know  about  incidents,"  said  Debby.  who  was  ar- 
rested as  she  was  leaving  the  room  by  the  allusion  to  Ellen, 
"  but  I  think  if  any  body  had  saved  me  from  the  accident  of 
being  drowned  or  ducked,  I  should  not  have  left  it  to  other 
folks  to  tell  of  it." 

There  was  one  unsuspected  and  most  unwilling  auditor  of 
this  conversation — Ellen  Bruce.  She  had  been  indulging  her- 
self with  the  refreshment  of  a  short  walk,  and  was  just  re-en- 
tering the  door,  and  lingering  to  gaze  on  the  dewy  landscape 
glittering  in  the  moonbeams,  when  her  ear  caught  Charles 
Westall's  inquiry  in  relation  to  herself  she  was  awkwardly 
situated,  for  she  could  not  advance  without  being  observed,  nor 
remain  without  being  an  involuntary  listener  to  a  conversation 
that  seemed  now  to  have  turned  upon  herself.  While  she  was 


178  EEDWOOD. 

hesitating,  Mr.  Kedwood  inquired  of  Debby  "  why  Miss  Bruce 
latterly  confined  herself  so  much  to  Mrs.  Allen's  room  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Deborah,  "  the  fact  is,  that  the  old  lady  is 
broke  to  pieces  \vith  her  troubles,  and  the  moment  Ellen  is  out 
of  her  sight  she  moans  for  her  like  a  child  fretting  for  its 
mother :  we  all  try  to  spell  her,  but  none  of  us  can  do  any 
thing  right  but  Ellen  :  it  is  past  all  belief  what  she  does  for 
the  old  lady — it  is  enough  to  wear  out  the  strength  of  Sam- 
son. I  talk  to  Mrs.  Allen,  but  she  is  quite  past  hearing  to 
reason,  though  there  was  never  a  nicer  reasonabler  woman 
than  she  has  been  in  her  day." 

"  It  is  quite  surprising,"  observed  Caroline,  languidly,  to  Mrs. 
Westall,  "  what  labors  these  New  England  women  perform." 

"  Surprising,  indeed,"  echoed  Mrs.  Westall,  "  but  it's  all  in 
habit,  my  dear, 

"  New  England  women — habit !"  exclaimed  Deborah.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what — it  is  not  being  born  here  or  there,  it  is  not 
habit ;  it  is  not  strength  of  limb,  but  here,"  and  she  struck 
her  hand  against  her  heart — "  here  is  what  gives  Ellen  Bruce 
strength  and  patience." 

There  was  energy  if  not  eloquence  in  Deborah's  manner, 
and  Charles  Westall,  who  had  listened  to  the  conversation 
from  the  beginning,  with  an  interest  that  had  manifestly  net- 
tled Caroline,  inquired  "  what  relation  Mrs.  Allen  bore  to  Miss 
Bruce  ?"  "  None,"  replied  Deborah,  and  then  seeming  sud- 
denly to  recollect  that  the  fisherman  was  awaiting  her,  she  left 
the  room. 

"  This  is  an  uncommon  devotion  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Bruce,"  said  Westall ;  "  but  after  what  we  have  heard  this 
afternoon  it  cannot  surprise  us — there  is  something  singularly 
lovely  in  her  whole  expression  and  manner,  in  perfect  unison 
with  her  disinterested  conduct." 


REDWOOD  179 

"  She  is  indeed  quite  a  genteel  young  woman,"  observed 
Mrs.  Westall.  "  Pray.  Miss  Redwood,  how  is  she  connected 
with  the  Lenoxes  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,  as  far  as  I  can  ascertain,"  replied  Caroline. 
"  She  seems  to  be  quite  as  mysterious  a  personage  as  the  man 
in  the  iron  mask.  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  find  out  whether  she 
has,  or  ever  had,  father  or  mother,  brethren  or  sisters — and  I 
have  finally  come  to  the  conclusion  that  she  is,  as  you  know, 
papa,  old  Colonel  Linston  used  to  call  such  people,  of  the  Mel- 
chisedeck  family." 

There  was  a  harshness,  a  levity  bordering  on  impiety  in 
Miss  Redwood's  reply  ;  it  sent  a  sudden  light  in  upon  Charles 
Westall's  mind.  He  had  been  amusing  himself  with  drawing 
and  undrawing  the  strings  of  Caroline's  reticule — he  threw  it 
aside,  not  with  that  love-like  manner  that  resembles  so  much 
the  profound  reverence  with  which  the  priest  handles  the  con- 
secrated vessels,  but  very  carelessly — and  left  the  room.  In 
the  passage  he  met  Ellen,  who,  on  his  approach,  had  darted 
forward  in  the  hope  of  avoiding  him.  It  was  impossible — and 
it  was  apparent  that  she  had  overheard  the  conversation — her 
face  was  flushed  and  her  manner  troubled — her  eye  met  West- 
all's  :  a  single  glance  intimated  the  suffering  of  the  one  and 
the  indignant  feeling  of  the  other — their  fine  spirits  had  been 
kindled  by  the  same  spark — it  was  one  of  those  moments  when 
the  soul  sends  its  bright  illuminations  to  the  face,  and  does  not 
need  the  intervention  of  language.  Ellen's  first  impulse  had 
been  to  pass  to  her  own  apartment,  but  Westall's  look  had 
changed  the  current  of  her  feelings — such  is  the  power  of  sym- 
pathy. "  Stay  one  moment,  Mr.  Westall,"  said  she,  hastily 
entering  Mr.  Redwood's  apartment,  while  Westall  paused  at 
the  door. 

Her  appearance  was  electrifying — Caroline  rose  from  her 


180  REDWOOD. 

seat,  Mr.  Redwood  exclaimed,  "  good  heavens  !"  and  Mrs-. 
Westall  sighed  out,  "  what  a  pity  !" 

"  Miss  Redwood,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  have  not  come  to  excuse 
my  listening,  that  was  involuntary,  but  as  far  as  I  am  able,  to 
shield  the  memory  of  my  mother  from  your  reckless  insinua- 
tions." The  word  "  mother,"  seemed  to  choke  her  ;  a  sudden 
faintness  came  over  her,  and  she  clung  for  support  to  the  side 
of  the  easy  chair  on  which  Mr.  Redwood  was  sitting :  after  a 
moment's  struggle  with  her  feelings,  the  blood  that  had  re- 
treated to  her  heart  flowed  again  to  her  cheeks,  and  she 
went  on : 

"  Miss  Redwood,  it  is  true  I  am  solitary  in  this  world,  but 
I  have  not  sought  to  wrap  myself  in  mystery ;  I  hoped  the 
obscurity  of  my  condition  would  shelter  me  from  observation 
and  curiosity — it  has  not — there  may  be  mystery  in  my  brief 
story,  but  there  is  no  disgrace.  My  mother  died  while  I  was 
still  an  infant.  I  only  know  that  my  father  survived  her — 
and  that  he  was — her  husband."  Here  Ellen's  voice  quite 
failed  her,  but  after  a  moment's  pause  she  proceeded  with 
tolerable  composure.  "  This  was  her  last  solemn  declara- 
tion. The  proofs  of  her  marriage  and  other  private  docu- 
ments are  in  my  hands,  in  a  locked  casket.  It  was  my  mother's 
dying  injunction  that  it  should  not  be  opened  till  a  period  .ar- 
rived, which  she  named.  I  have  guarded  it,"  she  added,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  and  raising  her  fine  eyes,  "  as  the  Israelites 
guarded  the  ark  of  the  living  God.  The  time  is  now  not  far 

distant  when  I  am  at  liberty  to  examine  its  contents— ^-to  ex- 

. 
plore  my  own  history." 

"  But,  my  God  !"  interrupted  Mr.  Redwood,  "  Miss  Bruce 
— Ellen — my  poor  child — have  you  quietly  complied  with  so 
strange,  so  arbitrary  a  request  ?" 

"  I  never  heard  any  thing  so  unaccountable,  so  ridiculous," 


REDWOOD.  t8I 

exclaimed  Caroline.     "  Nor  I."  said  Mrs.  Westall ;  "  it  is  in- 
deed inexplicable." 

Westall  said  nothing :  his  eyes  were  riveted  with  intense 
eagerness  on  Ellen,  who  replied,  "  Can  it  be  inexplicable  to 
you,  Mrs.  Westall,  who  have  a  devoted  son  ;  to  you,  Miss  Red- 
wood, who  can  render  a  daily  service  to  your  parent,  that  I 
should  hold  sacred  and  dear  the  only  act  of  filial  duty  that 
remains  to  me  ?" 

u  You  are  too  scrupulous,  Miss  Bruce,"  said  Mr.  Redwood. 
"  It  cannot  be  your  duty  to  comply  with  so  irrational  a  restric- 
tion :  you  may  have  a  parent  living,  to  whom  your  filial  piety 
might  be  of  some  avail  while  you  are  rendering  this  fanciful 
homage  to  her  who  is  insensible  and  unknowing  as  the  clods 
of  the  valley." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,  sir  !"  replied  Ellen  with  impetuosity. 
"  My  mother  seems  always  near  to  me  ;  I  hear  her  voice, 
I  feel  her  influence  in  every  event  of  my  life — why  she  im- 
posed this  restriction  on  me  I  know  not,  but  that  it  had  a  suf- 
ficient cause  I  may  trust  to  the  tenderness  of  a  dying  mother's 
heart." 

Charles  Westall  had  listened  with  breathless  interest ;  he 
now  advanced  involuntarily,  and  seizing  Ellen's  hand,  "  You 
do  right  and  nobly  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  your  enthusiasm  cannot 
be  taken  from  you — persevere — and,"  he  added,  in  a  softened 
and  tremulous  voice,  "  God  shield  you  from  the  shafts  of  the 
careless,  the  cruel,  or  the  envious  " 

Ellen  certainly  felt  a  glow  of  gratitude  and  delight  that 
there  was  one  who  perfectly  understood  her  :  such  sympathies 
are  well  compared  to  the  perfect  accords  of  fine  instruments. 
She  had  hardly  uttered  a  fervent  "  thank  you,  Mr.  Westall," 
before  «i  sudden  feeling  of  the  awkwardness  (if  her  conspicu- 
ous situation  came  over  her  ; — her  natural  timidity  had  been 


182  REDWOOD. 

controlled  by  stronger  feelings,  but  now  yielding  to  it,  she 
trembled,  became  pale,  and  abruptly  left  the  room  to  seek 
the  shelter  of  her  own  apartment. 

"  Westall's  last  words  to  Ellen  were  still  ringing  in  Caro- 
line's ears.  "  I  trust,  sir,"  said  she,  addressing  herself  to  him, 
"  that  you  did  not  mean  to  do  me  the  honor  to  class  me  among 
the  '  careless,  cruel,  or  envious  ?'  " 

"  Oh  no,  my  sweet  Caroline,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Westall, 
"  how  can  you  ask  such  a  question :  he  did  not  indeed — you 
did  not,  my  son — of  course  you  could  not?" 

Westall  did  not  second  his  mother's  earnest  defence ;  he 
merely  said  coldly,  "that  he  hoped  Miss  Redwood  was  not 
conscious  of  deserving  to  be  so  classed." 

"  Bless  me  ! — no ;"  replied  Caroline,  "  I  had  not  thought 
of  hurting  the  girl's  feelings  ;  who  could  have  dreamed  that 
she  was  listening  at  the  door  ?  But  you  know  the  old  pro- 
verb, Mrs.  Westall,  '  listeners  never  hear  any  good  of  them 
selves.1  " 

"  That  is  too  often  true,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Westall. 

"  My  dear  mother  !" — exclaimed  Charles  Westall,  in  a  tone 
that  savored  of  reproach,  but  had  still  more  of  grief  than  re- 
sentment in  it;  and  then  unable  to  endure  any  longer  his 
mother's  sycophancy,  and  perhaps  unwilling  to  expose  his  own 
emotion,  he  left  the  room. 

"  Shame  on  you,  Caroline  !"  said  her  father. 

"  Now  really,"  interposed  Mrs.  Westall,  "  I  do  not  see  that 
Caroline  is  at  all  in  fault :  how  could  she  divine  that  Miss 
Bruce  was  within  hearing  ? — indeed,  my  dear  sir,  it  was  mere 
pleasantry  on  her  part.  It  is  a  pity  Miss  Bruce,  who  appears 
so  amiable,  should  tell  such  an  incredible  story ;  no  one  can 
believe  it,  you  know,  unless  it  be  Charles.  It  is  just  like  him 
to  be  taken  with  such  romance ;  it  was  my  dear  husband's 


REDWOOD.  183 

greatest  fault,  Ms  only  weakness,  I  may  say  ;  but  I  own,  Car- 
oline, I  am  shocked  at  Charles's  inadvertence  ;  I  am  sure  it 
was  unintentional." 

"  It  is  quite  indifferent  t<5  me,  whether  it  was  or  not,"  re- 
plied Caroline,  pouting,  and  evidently  far  enough  from  the 
stoical  feeling  she  professed.  Mrs.  "Westall  perceived  that  this 
was  not  a  propitious  moment,  and  whispering  to  Caroline  that 
Charles  should  do  penance  by  going  home  at  an  hour  so  much 
earlier  than  usual,  she  took  her  leave,  and  returned  to  the 
village  with  her  son.  This  was  the  first  time  that  their  return 
had  not  been  animated  by  a  conversation  about  Miss  Redwood. 
This  evening  her  name  was  not  mentioned — neither  spoke  of 
the  scene  at  the  cottage,  nor  of  Ellen's  extraordinary  disclo- 
sure. They  mutually  understood  that  their  feelings  did  not 
harmonize,  and  both  maintained  silence.  When  they  parted 
for  the  night,  Charles  kissed  his  mother,  as  was  his  custom, 
tenderly ;  and  as  he  closed  the  door,  she  heard  him  sigh  deeply. 
She  regretted  that  she  had  pained  him,  but  she  thought  it  a 
pity  that  he  had  snob,  peculiar  feelings. 


184  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

.       • 

"I'll  be  so  bold  to  break  the  seal  for  once." 

Two  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 

As  soon  as  the  "Westalls  were  gone,  Caroline  rose  to  leave  &er 
father's  room.  "  Stop  for  one  moment,  my  child,"  said  he. 
"I  hope  that  the  experience  of  this  day  and  evening  has 
taught  you,  if  not  to  be  more  generous  in  your  judgments,  to 
be  more  careful  in  the  expression  of  them.  I  think  you  can- 
not fail  to  learn  this  lesson  from  the  story  of  the  blind  child, 
which  has  furnished  the  solution  to  those  mysterious  morning 
walks,  and  that  more  mysterious  night's  absence  which  per- 
plexed you  so  much,  while  you  had  nothing  else  to  employ 
your  thoughts  upon." 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  riddle  is  read ,  but  Miss  Bruce  has  been  so 
good  as  to  give  out  another,  which  even  you  may  be  puzzled  to 
solve." 

"  I  shall  not  make  the  effort,  Caroline.  I  entreat  you  to 
atone  by  your  attentions  to  Miss  Bruce  for  your  unjust  sus- 
picions, and  for  your  rudeness  this  evening  ;  common  justice 
requires  that  you  should  do  so ;  and  besides,  I  can  assure  you, 
it  will  not  be  an  easy  matter  to  efface  the  impression  that 
your  unfortunate  remarks  in  relation  to  her  have  made  on 
Westall's  mind." 


REDWOOD  185 

"  I  care  not,  sir,  whether  they  are  effaced  or  not,"  replied 
Caroline,  sullenly. 

"  Pursue  your  own  way  then,  Miss  Redwood,  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  guide  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  daughter  in  a  cool  sarcastic 
tone  which  she  could  sometimes  assume  ;  and  then  wishing  her 
father  a  good  night,  she  retired  to  her  own  apartment  in  a 
state  of  mind  resembling  that  of  a  petted  child  deprived  of 
its  playthings. 

She  was  surprised  to  find  that  Ellen,  who  had  of  late  been 
constantly  with  Mrs.  Allen,  was  already  in  her  room.  Ellen, 
believing  that  Caroline  was  still  occupied  with  her  guests,  had 
taken  her  precious  casket  from  one  of  her  drawers,  had  placed 
it  on  the  window-ledge,  and  was  sitting  in  a  deep  reverie  with 
her  cheek  leaning  on  it,  when  Carolines  entrance  startled  and 
somewhat  disconcerted  her. 

We  ought  not  perhaps  to  draw  aside  the  veil  and  disclose 
her  secret  meditations.  It  is  better  to  appeal  to  the  experi- 
ence of  other  young  ladies  to  determine  whether  it  is  not 
probable  that  the  thoughts  of  Westall,  and  of  the  animated 
interest  he  had  expressed  for  her,  had  not  some  part  in  her 
reverie,  and  whether  the  pleasure  he  had  awakened  did  not 
more  than  counterbalance  the  pain  Caroline  had  inflicted. 
There  was  a  newly -fallen  tear  on  the  box,  which  would  not  per- 
haps justify  such  a  conclusion,  but  then  her  face  was  so  bright 
and  peaceful,  that  a  malignant  spirit  might  have  shrunk  in 
despair  from  the  attempt  to  cast  a  shadow  over  it.  She  rose 
at  Caroline's  entrance,  to  replace  the  box  in  the  drawer. 
"  Ah,"  said  Caroline,  "  that  is  your  precious  casket — is  it, 
Miss  Bruce?  pray  allow  me  to  look  at  it."  She  took  it  from 
Ellen's  hand,  and  carelessly  shaking  it,  said,  "  it  is  quite  light, 
there  is  something  rattles  though — should  it  be  a  miniature  ? 


186  REDWOOD. 

Lord  !  I  would  open  it,  perhaps  the  painting  will  be  spoiled — 
I  should  like  of  all  things  to  know  whether  it  is  a  hoax — now 
do  not  look  so  like  a  tragedy-queen — all  I  mean  is  that  it  may 
have  been  a  way  your  mother  adopted  to  save  your  feelings — 
after  all,  perhaps  it  is  nothing,  it  is  not  larger  than  one  of  my 
jewel  cases." 

"  It  contains  all  my  jewels,  Miss  Redwood ;  permit  me  to 
take  it,"  replied  Ellen,  with  some  emotion ;  for  she  could  no 
longer  endure  to  see  that  handled  and  discussed  with  so  much 
levity,  which  she  had  never  touched  but  with  a  sentiment  re- 
sembling religious  awe. 

"While  Ellen  replaced  the  box  in  the  drawer,  Caroline 
watched  her,  saying  at  the  same  time,  (for  she  was  displeased 
at  Ellen's  manner  of  resuming  it.)  "  I  cannot  have  the  slightest 
curiosity  about  the  contents  of  your  box,  of  course,  Miss  Bruce 
— but  if  they  were  as  important  to  me  as  they  are  to  you,  I 
should  not  hesitate :  it  is  quite  silly  to  suppose  there  would  be 
any  harm  in  just  taking  a  peep." 

"  My  mind  is  entirely  at  rest  on  the  subject,"  replied  Ellen. 
"  There  are  feelings,  Miss  Redwood,  that  can  control  curiosity 
— even  the  most  natural  and  reasonable  curiosity.  I  am  sorry 
that  my  poor  concerns  have  been  obtruded  on  your  notice,  but 
since  they  have  been,  the  greatest  favor  you  can  do  me  now  is 
to  forget  them ;"  then  bidding  Caroline  good  night,  she  return- 
ed to  Mrs.  Allen. 

'  Forget  them,'  Caroline  could  not — the  demon  of  curiosity 
had  taken  possession  of  her  mind.  She  had  suffered  injurious 
thoughts  of  Ellen  till  she  had  come  to  consider  her  as  an  ene- 
my of  whom  it  was  right  to  take  any  advantage.  Her  self- 
importance  had  been  mortified  by  the  deference  paid  to  Ellen 
by  the  Lenoxes — her  self-love  offended  by  her  father's  exces- 
sive admiration.  Caroline  had  the  passions  of  a  strong  cha- 


REDWOOD.  187 

racter,  and  the  habits  of  a  -weak  one.  In  her  idleness  her 
thoughts  had  brooded  over  Ellen's  conduct,  till  she  had  mag- 
nified the  most  trivial  circumstances  into  a  ground  of  alarm  or 
anxiety,  but  since  the  arrival  of  Charles  Westall  she  had  almost 
forgotten  her,  and  quite  forgotten  her  silly  fancy  of  the  danger 
of  what  she  called  a  "  sentimental  affair"  between  Ellen  and 
her  father.  The  events  of  the  day  and  evening  had  thrown  a 
strong  light  on  her  rival,  and  cast  her  quite  into  the  shade : 
this  was  enough  to  relume  the  fires  of  envy  in  Caroline's  bosom, 
if  they  were  not  already  kindled  by  the  interest  Westall  had 
manifested  in  Ellen. 

A  most  convenient  opportunity  now  offered  to  gratify  her 
curiosity,  perhaps  to  confirm  her  malicious  conjectures.  It  was 
possible  that  the  key  to  one  of  her  trinket  cases  might  open 
Ellen's  box ;  there  could  be  no  harm  in  trying  just  to  see  if 
one  would  suit.  She  drew  out  the  drawer  in  which  she  had 
seen  Ellen  replace  her  casket,  and  then  paused  for  a  moment 
— but,  "  c'est  le  premier  pas  qui  coute  ;"  the  first  wrong  step 
taken,  or  resolved  on,  the  next  is  easy  and  almost  certain. 
She  carried  the  box  to  the  light,  found  a  key  that  exactly 
fitted,  and  then  the  gratification  could  not  be  resisted. 

She  opened  the  box — a  miniature  laid  on  the  top  of  it. 
Caroline  started  at  the  first  glance  as  if  she  had  seen  a  spectre — 
she  took  it  out  and  examined  it — a  name  legibly  written  on  the 
reverse  of  the  picture  confirmed  her  first  impressions.  She 
replaced  it  in  the  box — she  would  have  given  worlds  that  she 
had  never  seen  it — but  the  bold,  bad  deed  was  done;  and, 
"past  who  can  recall,  or  done  undo?"  After  pacing  the  room 
for  a  few  moments  in  agitation  of  mind  bordering  on  distrac- 
tion, she  returned  to  the  examination  of  the  box :  there  was  in 
it  a  letter  directed  "  To  my  child," — it  was  unsealed,  unless  a 
tress  of  beautiful  hair  which  was  bound  around  it  might  be 


188  REDWOOD. 

called  a  seal.  There  was  also  a  certificate  of  the  marriage  of 
Ellen's  mother  to  the  original  of  the  picture.  Caroline's  first 
impulse  was  to  destroy  the  records :  she  went  to  the  window, 
threw  up  the  sash,  and  prepared  to  give  Ellen's  treasure  to  the 
disposition  of  the  winds  ;  but,  as  she  unbound  the  lock  of  hair 
that  she  might  reduce  the  letter  to  fragments,  it  curled  around 
her  hand,  and  awakened  a  feeling  of  awe  and  superstition. 
She  paused,  she  was  familiar  with  folly,  but  not  with  crime ; 
she  had  not  virtue  enough  to  restore  Ellen;s  right,  nor  hardi- 
hood enough  to  annihilate  the  proof  of  it :  a  feeble  purpose  of 
future  restitution  dawned  in  her  mind — the  articles  might  be 
safely  retained  in  her  own  keeping — future  circumstances 
should  decide  their  destiny — her  grandmother  oug/it  to  see 
them.  This  last  consideration  fixed  her  wavering  mind,  and 
she  proceeded  to  make  her  arrangements  with  the  caution  that 
conscious  guilt  already  inspired.  She  let  fall  the  window-cur- 
tains, secured  herself  from  interruption  by  placing  her  scissors 
over  the  latch  of  the  door,  and  then  refolded  the  letter,  and 
carefully  removed  the  miniature  from  its  setting,  tore  the  name 
from  the  back  of  it,  and  placed  it  with  the  hair,  the  letter,  and 
the  certificate,  in  a  box  of  her  own.  which  she  securely  deposit- 
ed at  the  bottom  of  one  of  her  trunks.  In  order  to  avoid  a 
suspicion  that  might  arise  in  Ellen's  mind  should  she  miss  the 
sound  of  the  miniature,  Caroline  prudently  restored  the  setting 
to  the  box,  and  then  locked  and  replaced  it  in  the  drawer. 

For  a  moment  she  felt  a  glow  of  triumph  that  the  result  of 
her  investigation  had  made  her  the  mistress  of  Ellen's  destiny ; 
but  this  was  quickly  succeeded  by  a  deep^feeling  of  mortifica- 
tion, a  consciousness  of  injustice  and  degradation,  and  a  fearful 
apprehension  of  the  future  ;  even  at  this  moment,  who  would 
not  rather  have  been  the  innocent  Ellen,  spoiled  of  the  object 
of  years,  of  patient  waiting  and  intense  expectation,  than  the 


REDWOOD  189 

selfish,  ruthless  Caroline ! — who  would  not  rather  have  been 
the  injured  than  the  injurer  ! 

Caroline  endeavored  to  compose  herself  before  she  sum- 
moned her  servant,  for  she  already  shrunk  from  the  eye  of  an 
obsequious  menial — so  surely  do  fear  and  shame  follow  guilt. 
When  Lilly  came  in  obedience  to  her  call,  and  entering,  ex- 
claimed, "  The  Lord  pity  us  !  Miss  Gary,  you  are  as  pale  as  a 
ghost,  and  all  in  a  tremble, — do  let  me  speak  to  Mistress  Le- 
nox." Caroline  replied.  "  No,  no,  Lilly,  I  am  only  shivering 
with  the  horrid  air  from  the  lake :  mind  your  own  affairs  and 
undress  me,  and  do  not  leave  my  bedside  till  you  see  .1  am 
quite  fast  asleep.  These  terrible  cold,  damp  evenings  at  the 
north,  make  one  so  wakeful  and  restless  !" 

The  succeeding  morning  Charles  Westall  came  as  usual 
with  his  mother  to  Mr.  Lenox's.  On  their  way  Mrs.  Westall, 
assiduous  to  gratify  her  favorite,  had  lingered  to  gather  some 
wild  honeysuckles  for  her,  saying  at  the  same  time  to  her  son, 
that  those  beautiful  and  fragrant  flowers  were  emblematical  of 
Caroline.  Charles  made  no  reply,  but  he  thought  that  Chough 
the  beauty  of  the  flowers  might  be  emblematical  of  Caroline, 
their  fragrance  was  a  truer  emblem  of  that  virtue  which  sends 
sweet  incense  to  heaven,  and  is  to  beauty  what  the  perfume  i? 
to  the  flower.  As  he  proceeded  forward,  at  a  sudden  turn  of 
the  road  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Miss  Redwood,  just  issuing 
from  Mr.  Lenox's  court-yard.  He  felt  an  invincible  disincli- 
nation to  meet  her  alone,  and  seeing  that  he  was  not  perceived 
by  her,  he  placed  his  hand  on  the  garden-fence  and  sprang  over 
it,  and  turning  around  some  shrubbery,  he  was  no  longer  within 
the  range  of  Miss  Redwood's  observation.  The  spell  of  her 
beauty  was  broken  ;  the^Pber  of  the  enchantress  over  him  for 
ever  lost  by  the  revelation  which  she  had  made  of  her  charac- 
ter in  the  conversation  of  the  preceding  day.  "  Thank  heaven," 


190  REDWOOD. 

exclaimed  Westall,  audibly,  "  I  have  awoke  before  it  is  too 
late." 

"  And  what  is  that  you  thank  heaven  for,  young  man  ?"  in- 
quired Debby,  who  was  sitting  under  the  shade  of  an  apple-tree, 
shelling  some  beans. 

"  Why,  Miss  Deborah,"  replied  Westall,  smiling  at  his  own 
abstraction,  "  is  there  not  always  enough  of  good  received  or 
danger  escaped  to  be  thankful  for  ?" 

"A  plenty,  young  man — a  plenty,  especially  with  you 
young  folks,  who  have  not  the  clearest  light  to  walk  by,  and 
are  too  full  of  conceit  to  see  by  the  candle  of  older  people's 
experience.  Pride  and  conceit  are  your  ruin :  I  don:t  mean 
yours  in  particular,  Mr.  Westall,"  Deborah  continued,  casting 
a  side  and  approving  glance  at  his  fine  modest  and  benignant 
countenance,  "  but  the  rising  generation  in  general — it  is  pride 
and  conceit  that  keep  up  such  a  will-worship,  as  the  great  Bun- 
yan  would  call  it.  There  is  that  Car'liny.girl,  all  natur  could 
not  convince  her  that  all  God's  creaturs  wern't  made  for  her 
sarvice  and  convenience. — The  girl  is  no  fool  neither,' nat'rally 
she  is  rather  bright ;  the  fault  is  in  her  bringing  up  ;  that  I 
own  is  a  master-puzzle  to  me,  how  such  a  reasonable  smart  man. 

Squire  Redwood — a  very  pretty  behaved  man  too,  especially 
when  you  consider  that  he  has  lived  in  a  slave  country — how 
he  could  have  good  materials  worked  up  into  such  poor  manu- 
factur.  It  is  quite  a  pleasure,"  continued  Deborah,  stimulated 
to  proceed  as  others  might  have  been  by  so  patient  a  listener, — 
"  it  is  quite  a  pleasure  to  meet  such  a  man  as  the  Squire,  who 
has  travelled  in  the  old  countries  and  taken  note  of  what  he 
has  seen ;  for  he  a'nt  like  those  travellers  I  have  heard  a  man 
liken  to  Jonah  in  the  whale's  belly,  who  go  a  great  way  and 
see  nothing.  But,  after  all,"  she  continued,  gi^g  *ke  tin  pan 
into  which  she  was  shelling  her  beans  an  energetrfl-shake — "  after 


REDWOOD.  191 

all,  I  don't  know  what  good  such  stores  of  knowledge  do  peo- 
ple, if  they  don't  make  them  of  some  sarvice  in  their  conduct 
and  happiness.  To  my  mind.  Mr.  Westall,  it  is  as  if  "men 
were  to  gather  all  the  nourishing  rains  into  great  cisterns,  and 
there  keep  them,  instead  of  letting  them  fall  upon  the  earth  to 
bring  forth  good  entertainment  for  man  and  horse,  as  the  tavern 
signs  say.  Now  there  is  my  sister  Lenox :  she  has  not  what 
are  called  shining  talents ;  but,  Mr.  Westall,  she  has  used  all 
she  has,  in  the  true  scriptur  way.  Just  cast  your  eye  about 
this  garden ; — I  don't  mean  to  praise  myself,  though  I  take  all 
the  care  of  it.  'bating  the  help  I  get  from  the  boys,  but  poor 
tools  at  such  work — look  round  at  the  long  saace,  the  short 
saace,  and  the  green  saace  ;*  they  are  all  of  my  planting,  and 
as  you  may  observe,  there  is  not  a  spot  in  the  garden  as  big  as 
your  hat  crown  that  has  not  some  good  and  useful  thing  tucked 
into  it,  except  it  may  be  the  pinies  and  pinks  and  roses — and 
them  are  good  for  sore  eyes  and  other  kinds  of  ailments,  be- 
sides being  pretty  notions  for  the  children ; — well,  this  garden 
is  a  parfect  pictur  of  Miss  Lenox's  management  of  her  family. 
Eleven  children  has  she  brought  up.  that  is,  the  most  of  them 
are  brought  up,  and  the  rest  in  a  thriving  way — and  an  honor 
and  a  credit  will  they  be  to  her,  and  a  blessing  to  the  worlft, 
when  she  has  played  her  part  out  above  ground  ;  and  that  time 
must  come  to  her,  as  to  all,"  continued  Debby,  passing  the 
back  of  her  hand  across  her  eyes,  "  and  it  is  a  time  she  need 
not  shrink  from, — for  such  a  life  is  what  you  may  call  a  con- 


*  Sauce,  pronounced  saace  or  sarse,  is  in  the  most  secluded  parts  of 
New-England  the  vulgar  name  for  culinary  vegetables: — e.  g.  long  saace 
— for  beets,  carrots,  &c. ;  short  saace — for  potatoes  and  turnips.  How 
rapidly  railroads  and  steamwMwre  effacing  the  local  peculiarities  of  our 
country !  The  terms  quite  ^^^  for  our  friend  Debby  in  '14  are  in  '49 
disused  and  nearly  forgotten  ' 


192  REDWOOD. 

tinual  making  ready  for  it.  In  my  view,  though  it  has  never 
fallen  to  my  lot  to  he  married  and  have  children — but  that  is 
neither  here  nor  there — in  my  view  there  can't  be  so  praise- 
ful  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  a  parent  as  a  real  good 
child.  I  never  mind  this  rhodomontade  upon  tomb-stones  any 
more  than  so  much  novel  writing ;  some  of  it  may  be  true — 
the  poor  creatures  that's  mouldering  away  below,  has  lived  and 
died,  so  much  we  know  is  sartin  ;  but  for  the  most  part  it's 
like  one  of  the  stories  of  that  Gulliver  revived,  that's  so  di- 
varting  to  the  boys.  Yes,  a  real  virtuous  child  is  a  crown  of 
glory  to  the  parent ;  and  as  I  said  before,  all  the  tomb-stones 
in  the  world,  even  them  peramids  and  obelisks,  and  things  cast 
in  a  kind  of  brass,  and  made  in  a  kind  of  marble  mason-work 
that  Squire  Redwood  tells  about  in  the  old  countries,  they  a'nt 
to  be  mentioned  with  it." 

"  It  surprises  me."  said  Westall,  who  was  evidently  greatly 
interested  by  the  honest  and  affectionate  zeal  with  which  Debo- 
rah lauded  her  sister — "  it  surprises  me,  Miss  Deborah,  that 
with  such  very  correct  views  of  the  happiness  and  duties  of 
parents,  you  should  have  chosen  a  single  life." 

Deborah's  senile  showed  she  was  not  insensible  to  the  com- 
pliment implied  in  the  word  cliosen  /  for  like  other  maidens, 
she  preferred  it  should  be  understood  that  she  did  not  walk  in 
the  solitary  path  of  celibacy  by  compulsion.  "  Oh,  it  was  a 
whim  of  my  own,"  she  replied,  "  and  there  is  ao  danger  of  such 
whims  being  catching — sooner  or  later  every  body  slides  off 
into  the  beaten -road  of  matrimony." 

"  But  it  is  a  pity,  Missl^borah,  that  you  should  have  been 
governed  by  such  a  whim."  .  i 

"  Why  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Westall — I  don't  know.  In  the 
first  place,  there  is  no  danger  in  the  example,  for  there's  few 
that  will  follow  it  of  their  own  good-will.  J.  don't  wish  to 


REDWOOD.  193 

speak  my  own  epitaph,  'logium,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  but  to 
my  mind,  a  lone  woman  that  no  one  notices,  no  one  praises, 
that  is  not  coaxed  into  goodness,  that  envies  no  one,  minds  her 
own  affairs,  is  contented  and  happy — such  a  woman  is  a  sight 
to  behold !" 

"  And  to  admire — certainly.  I  agree  with  you  entirely, 
Miss  Debby,"  replied  Westall. 

Deborah  turned  her  eye  oipon  Westall,  pleased  with  his 
cordial  concurrence  in  her  own  opinion ;  but  his  had  been  at- 
tracted by  a  group  that  seemed  to  have  just  taken  their  sta- 
tions at  the  entrance  door,  which  we  have  before  had  occasion 
to  notice,  on  the  north  side  of  Mr.  Lenox's  house.  "  Oh,  I  see 
how  it  is,  young  man,"  she  said,  good-naturedly,  "  old  women 
have  no  chance  at  ears  or  eyes  when  young  ones  come  in  sight, 
especially  those  so  comely  as  she  is." 

"  I  do  not  see  Miss  Redwood,"  replied  Westall,  his  eyes 
still  riveted  to  the  spot. 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,  no,  but  you  see  one  that  is  worth 
as  many  of  her  as  can  stand  'twixt  here  and  Car'liny." 

"  But  it  was  beauty  you  spoke  of,  Miss  Debby  ;  and  j|jth 
all  your  partiality,  I  presume  you  do  not  pTetend  that  Miss 
Bruce  has  as  much  beauty  as  Miss  Redwood  ?" 

"  Do  not — but  indeed  I  do  though,  and  I  could  prove  it 
too,  to  the  satisfaction  of  any  reasonable  person." 

"  Ah,"  replied  Westall,  '•  that  is  a  matter  of  taste,  that  has 
not  much  to  do  with  proof  or  reason  ;  but  let  me  see,  Miss 
Debby,  how  you  make  out  your  case.  I  will  be  the  champion 
of  Miss  Redwood's  beauty,  and  ^fire  no  knight  ever  had  surer 
ground  to  stand  upon.  What  do  you  say  to  that  incomparable 
hair,  black  and  glossy  as  atraven's  plumage,  turning  into  rich 
curls  whenever  it  escapes  from  the  classic  braids  that  con- 
fine it?" 

9 


194  REDWOOD. 

"  Oh,  you  talk  too  high  grammar  for  me,  Mr.  "Westall.  Well, 
I  never  before  heard  there  was  any  beauty  in  black  hair ;  why7 
mine  was  as  black  as  hers  before  it  turned  gray,  and  I  never 
heard  a  word  said  about  the  beauty  of  it.  Now,  tell  me,  Mr. 
Westall,  on  your  conscience,  if  you  can  think  that  black  hair 
plaited,  and  twisted,  and  fussified,  to  be  compared  with  Ellen's 
beautiful  brown  hair  ?  why  man,  I  don't  believe  you  ever  saw 
it  when  she  was  combing  it." 

"  No,  I  certainly  never  had  that  privilege." 

"  Well,"  proceeded  Debby  in  her  earnestness,  not  heeding 
the  smile  that  hovered  on  Westall's  lip,  "  I  can  tell  you  it 
reaches  almost  to  the  tops  of  her  shoes ;  and  then,  when  she 
doubles  it  into  them  rich  folds,  and  fastens  it  with  her  comb, 
and  parts  it  from  the  front  in  a  kind  of  a  wave — did  you  ever 
see  any  thing  that  had  a  cleaner,  prettier  look  ?  and  so  bright 
and  polished  as  if  the  sun  was  shining  into  it." 

"  I  yield  the  point  of  the  hair,  Miss  Debby,  but  what  do 
you  say  to  Miss  Redwood's  high  marble  brow  ?" 

"  Proud,  proud,  sir,  and  as  cold  as  marble.     Now  Ellen's 

is  just  what  a  woman's  should  be,  modest  and  meek.    I  am  not 

A- 
gifted  at  description ;  but  if  you  ever  saw  that  pictur  of  the 

Virgin  Mary  that  our  George  sent  home  to  his  mother,  (and 
between  you  and  I,  I  always  thought  it  was  because  it  was 
such  a  likeness  ofcEllen  that  he  sent  it,)  you  will  know  what 
I  mean:  look  nt  tho'fbrc  temple,  the  mouth,  the  eyes 

— yes,  riiist  especially  the  eyes^fckL  you  will  say,  '  this  is  an 
immortal  creatur' — you  need  not  smile, "Wr.  Westall:  what  I 
mean  is,  that  that  face  has  ^en  lit  up  by  a  mark  from  heaven, 
as  the  hymn-book  says,  '  a  vital  spark  of  heayeply  flame,'  and  a 
spark  that  will  never  die.  Now  I  should*  Ifl^e  to  know  if  you 
get  any  such  idee  from  Miss  Redwood's  flesh  and  blood  ?" 
"  I  confess  myself  vanquished,  Miss  Debby :  I  give  up  the 


REDWOOD.  195 

face,  but  you  will  certainly  have  the  candor  to  allow  that  Miss 
Redwood  has  the  finest  figure  ;  so  tall  and  graceful  —  she  moves 
like  Juno." 

"  That  I  won't  deny.  She  is  just  like  one  of  them  heathen 
idols  :  every  motion  —  sitting  or  rising,  walking  or  standing  — 
seems  to  say,  look  at  me  !  worship  me  !  but  Ellen,  she  is  be- 
hind a  cloud  just  now  ;  but  if  you  had  seen  her  as  I  have  seen 
her,  every  step  as  light  and,  springy  as  a  fawn's  ;  and  now,  if 
you  take  notice,  her  motions  are  all  as  free  as  a  child's,  she 
never  seems  to  think  any  one  is  looking  at  her.  I  never  read 
any  to  speak  of,  in  poetry,  and  novel  books,  and  such  things, 
so  I  can't  compare  Miss  Redwood  to  any  of  the  gentry  you 
find  there,  but  she  always  brings  to  my  mind  the  daughters  of 
Zion  spoken  of  by  the  Prophet  Isaiah  in  his  third  chapter,  16th 
verse,  and  on  ;  while  Ellen  is  like  those  Christian  women  the 
apostle  commends,  whose  adorning  is  not  outwardly,  but  that 
of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit  :  there  is  just  the  difference  between 
the  two  girls  that  there  is  between  the  pomp  and  show  and 
to-do  of  the  old  Jewish  worship,  and  of  that  of  our  times,  which 
is  (that  is,  ought  to  be)  in  spirit  and  in  truth." 


"  Oh,  you  are  blind,  Miss  Debby,"  TeigjS.  Westall,  laugh- 
ing, "  there  is  no  use  in  contesting  the  point  with  you,  but  I 
will  go  and  see  if  I  can  discover  any  of  these  surprising 
charms  ;"  so  saying,  he  walked  towards  the  house,  while  De- 
borah, following  him  with  her  eyes,  could  not  help  wondering 
that  a  young  man,  who  seamed  to  her  not  to  want  sense  or  dis- 
cernment, should  not,  after  all,  know  darkness  from  light. 

There  had,  been  showers  during  the  night,  which  had 
changed  the  air  from  extreme  sultriness  to  a  delicious  purity 
and  coolness.  ,Efen%d  Mrs.  Allen's  frame  seemed  newly 
braced  by  the  sweet  freshening  breezes  that  came  over  the  lake. 
Ellen  had  persuaded  her  to  have  her  easy  chair  drawn  to  the 


1 96  REDWOOD. 

door,  in  the  hope  that  she  would  be  cheered  by  the  bright  scene 
before  her.  After  adjusting  her  pillows,  placing  a  footstool  at 
her  feet,  and  putting  her  snuff-box  and  handkerchief  into  her 
lap,  "  Oh,"  said  she,  "  Mrs.  Allen,  is  it  not  a  glorious  morning  ? 
Look  at  the  mountains  beyond  the  lake,  how  bright  and  dis- 
tinct they  look." 

"  My  eyes  are  dim,  child — I  cannot  see  them." 
"  Now,"  said  Ellen,  placing  the  old  lady's  spectacles  over 
her  eyes,  "  now  you  can  see  :  oh,  only  look  where  the  mist  still 
rests  between  the  mountains,  and  looks  like  a  flood  of  melted 
silver  ;  and  there  where  it  is  rising  up  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain— so  bright,  one  might  fancy  it  enrobed  spirits  of  the  air 
— and  above,  what  a  silvery  curtain  it  hangs  over  that  highest 
point — and  there  it  has  risen,  and  is  melting  away  on  the  pure 
blue  of  the  sky :  the  lake  too  is  alive  with  the  spirit  of  the 
morning,  and  the  merry  waves  as  they  come  dancing  on  before 
the  breeze,  seem  to  laugh  as  they  break  on  the  shore."  Ellen 
was  an  enthusiast  in  her  susceptibility  to  the  influence  of  na- 
tural beauty ;  the  bright  scene  before  her  had  kindled  a  rap- 
turous sensation  which  might  excuse  one  moment  of  forgetful- 
ness  that  her  ol^priend's  senses  were  dull  and  cold  ;  that  the 
chords  were  broken,  over  which  the  glad  voice  of  nature  might 
breathe,  discoursing  sweet  music.  "Here,  Ellen,"  said  she. 
languidly,  "  put  away  these  spectacles^-r^he  days  have  coino 
that  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them  :  there  is  a  heavy  weight  on 
my  heart',  child,  and  it  will  not  bound  at  such  sights." 

"  But,  dear  Mrs.  Allen,  throw  aside  the  weight  for  a  little 
while,"  said  Ellen,  while  she  playfully  held  the  spectacles  over 
the  old  lady's  eyes,  "you  must  enjoy  this  morning — all  nature 
rejoices — the  birds  fill  the  sweet  air  v?Ki  their  music  ;  and  see 
those  insects,  what  myriads  of  them,  are  whirling  in  a  giddy 
circle." 


REDWOOD.  197 

"  And  look,  aunt  Allen,"  said  little  Lucy  Lenox,  who  had 
just  joined  them,  "  look  at  the  hay-makers,  how  busy  and  happy 
they  are  !" 

"  But,  Eddy  is  not  among  them,"  replied  the  old  lady,  giv- 
ing way  to  a  childish  burst  of  tears  ;  "  where  shall  I  look  for 
my  children,  Ellen  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Allen,  all  this  beauty  is  but  a  shadow  of  that 
brighter  sphere  to  which  Edward  is  gone." 

"  But,  my  little  Emily,  that  lost  one  !" 

"  The  lost  one  may  be  yet  found,  dear  Mrs.  Allen  ;  it  is  not 
right  for  you  to  despair." 

"  Your  ministry  is  a  kind  one,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr. 
Redwood,  advancing  from  his  room  where  he  had  been  listen- 
ing to  Ellen  ;  "  but  vain,  I  am  afraid.  The  sick  cannot  swal- 
low the  food  of  the  healthy,  Mrs.  Allen  ;  I  have  travelled  so 
far  on  this  wearisome  journey  of  life,  that  I  have  exhausted 
the  resources  of  youth." 

Mrs.  Allen  either  did  not  hear  or  heed  Mr.  Redwood. 
"  Lucy,"  she  said,  "  get  your  Testament  and  reajLme  a  few 
chapters  ;  that  is  all  the  comfort  left  to  me^L 

"  There  are  then,"  said  Ellen,  looking  Sinidly  at  Mr.  Red- 
wood, "  some  resources  that  cannot  be  exhausted/^ 

"  Happy  are  those  who  think  so,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood, 
with  an  equivocal  smile,  which  indicated  that  his  respect  for 
Ellen  alone  prevented  him  from  saying,  '  that  such  a  nostrum 
might  do  for  an  old  woman,  but  had  no  efficacy  for  more  en- 
lightened subjects.' 

Lucy  brought  her  Testament,  and  seating  herself  on  Mrs. 
Allen's  footstool,  began  her  reading. 

"  Lucy,"  said  Ellen  to  Mr.  Redwood,  "  is  quite  a  rustic, 
like  the  rest  of  us, — unlearned  in  the  forms  of  courtesy." 

"  I  should  be  sorry,  Miss  Bruce,  that  you  should  deem  me 


198  REDWOOD. 

such  a  bigot  to  the  usages  of  the  world,  as  to  require  that  an 
essential  kindness  should  be  deferred  to  the  forms  of  polite- 
ness. No,  so  far  from  it.  that  if  Miss  Lucy  will  permit  me, 
I  will  be  one  of  her  auditors."  So  saying,  he  seated  himself, 
and  Ellen,  having  brought  her  portfolio  from  an  adjoining 
room,  placed  herself  on  a  bench  under  the  elm-tree  which  grew 
i»  few  yards  from  the  door-step.  She  was  just  finishing  a 
sketch  of  the  view  from  Mr.  Lenox's  house,  which  she  had 
promised  to  George  Lenox.  Lucy  proceeded  with  her  reading, 
and  Mr.  Redwood  listened  with  apparent  interest,  which  might 
be  accounted  for  by  the  novelty  of  the  book  to  him  ;  for,  '  en 
philosophe,'  he  had  judged  and  condemned  without  examining 
the  only  record  that  pretends  to  any  credible  authority  to  teach 
us  our  duties  and  our  destiny. 

The  lecture  would  have  been  long,  and  might  have  been 
profitable,  but  it  was  interrupted  by  the  approach  of  Mrs. 
Westall  and  Miss  Redwood;  they  had  been  joined  by  Mr. 
Lenox,  and  Charles  Westall,  who  was  just  issuing  from  the 
garden  ga|tt|S  the  ladies  entered  the  yard.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  this  w,as  an^ecomplishment  of  yours,  Miss  Bruce,"  said 
Westall,  dMto^j^pto  her.  and  casting  his  eye  over  her  draw- 
ing, whicWras  too  faithful  "a  copy  of  the  scene  before  them  to 
be  mistaken. 

"  My  knowledge  of  the  art  does  not  merit  so  dignified  a 
name,  Mr.  Westal} ;  slight  as  it  is,  however,  it  is  a  great  grati- 
fication when  it  gi^|me  the  opportunity  of  gratifying  an  ab- 
sent friend." 

"  And  do  you  limit  your  benevolence  to  the'  absent,  or  will 
your  permit  me  to  examine  the  contents  of  your  portfolio  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Ellen,  "  although  it  will  hardly  reward 
you  for  the  trouble."  Ellen  was  unostentatious,  and  at  the 
same  time  free  from  that  false  modesty  which  has  its  source  in 


fiEDWOOD.  199 

pride.  She  \ruiild  have  shrunk  from  any  thing  approaching  to 
an  exhibit:  j;:  of  any  of  her  talents,  but  she  did  not,  either  from 
vanity  or  false  humility,  imagine  that  there  was  in  the  efforts 
•of  Ler  skill  in  drawing  any  thing  either  to  do  her  honor  or 
discredit. 

Westall  seemed  in  a  most  provokingly  admiring  humor. 
Not  a  graceful  line,  a  happy  light,  or  fortunate  shadow  escaped 
his  observation.  He  called  his  mother  and  Miss  Kedwood,  to 
point  out  to  them  a  thousand  beauties.  Caroline's  color,  bril- 
liant from  exercise,  was  certainly  heightened  as  she  approached 
Ellen.  She  looked  over  the  drawings  languidly,  and  said, 
"  they  were  pretty  sketches  for  any  one  who  fancied  land- 
scapes." Her  mind  was  evidently  intent  on  something  beside 
the  drawings,  for  her  eye  wandered  from  her  father  to  Ellen 
for  a  few  moments,  when  she  seated  herself  with  an  expression 
of  sullenness  and  abstraction  that  recalled  the  transactions  of 
the  preceding  evening  to  all  that  had  witnessed  them :  an 
awkwardness  came  over  the  whole  party.  Ellen  busied  her- 
self with  arranging  and  replacing  her  drawings  ;  the  operation 
did  not  seem  to  be  accelerated  by  Westall's  efforts  to  aid  her. 

Mr.  Redwood  gazed  on  the  two  girls  t^i  feelings  suffi- 
ciently mortifying  to  his  paternal  pride  ;  he  had^Hfeed  the 
noblest  feelings  of  his  nature,  but  not  extinguished  them  ;  his 
-aspirations  went  beyond  the  mean  gratification  of  his  vanity, 
which  might  have  been  derived  from  the  rare  beauty  of  his 
daughter.  The  classic  elegance  of  her  figure,  the  brilliancy  of 
her  complexion,  (the  more  striking  for  its  singularity  in  our 
southern  country,)  the  symmetry  of  her  features,  and  that  per- 
fect control  of  her  graceful  movements  which  pride  and  fash- 
ionable success  had  given  to  her,  invested  her  with  a  right  to 
the  infallible  decision  of  the  beau-monde,  which  had  already 
pronounced  her  an  unrivalled  beauty.  '  Ah,'  thought  her 


200  REDWOOD. 

father,  as  he  explored  her  face  in  vain  for  some  expression  that 
might  consecrate  so  fair  a  temple,  and  sighed  at  the  pride,  dis- 
content, and  scorn  which  he  met  there,  '  ah,  my  child,  you  look 
like  a  fit  idol  for  a  pagan  worship  ;  men  would  deify  you,  but 
you  are  all  earthly.  This  Ellen  Bruce,'  thought  he,  as  he 
turned  his  eye  towards  her,  '  has  such  a  look  of  spirituality,  so 
bright,  and  so  tranquil  too,  that  if  there  is  a  heaven  she  is 
surely  destined  to  it.'  Ellen  had  in  truth  a  face  of  the  beati- 
tudes. '  My  child,'  thought  Mr.  Redwood,  as  he  pursued  his- 
melancholy  reflections,  '  has  no  right  to  such  an  expression. 
Ellen's  is  "  full  of  notable  morality  which  it  doth  delightfully 
teach,"  and  might  almost  inspire.' 

Mr.  Redwood  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  Lenox,  who- 
observing  that  his  guest  looked  unusually  grave,  said,  "  Why 
how  now,  Squire  Redwood,  can't  all  these  women  folks  keep 
you  in  heart — or  maybe  you  are  heart-whole,  but  it  is  the  arm 
pains  you?" 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood,  "  the  arm  is  doing  well 
enough,  and  will  I  hope  soon  be  at  the  service  of  any  of  the 
ladies  ;  but  it  is  not  their  province,  sir,  to  keep  the  heart 
whole." 

'•  T  don't  know  as  to  that,"  replied  Lenox  :  "  it  is  true,  wife 
gave  mine  something  of  a  jerk  when  I  was  young  ;  but  I  am 
one  of  the  contented  sort,  sir,  and  contentment,  as  likely  you 
may  have  observed,  is  an  article  that  is  not  to  be  bought." 

"  I  believe  not,  friend  Lenox,  for  if  all  men  were  of  my 
mind,  they  would  be  all  buyers  and  no  sellers." 

"  Well,  that  is  honest,  Squire,  I  like  that.  If  it  was  to  be 
bought,  I'm  thinking  you  could  make  the  purchase,  if  any 
body,  for  I  judge  you  to  be  something  of  a  nabob.  What  may 
be  your  yearly  income,  Squire  ?" 

Mr.  Redwood  was  not  prepared  for  so  direct  an  invest!- 


REDWOOD.  201 

gation  of  his  pecuniary  affairs :  lie  replied,  "  Indeed,  sir,  I  do 
not  know." 

"  Don't  know  !"  exclaimed  Lenox,  quite  unsuspicious  of  the 
impropriety  of  his  inquiry — "  that's  surprising — I  took  the 
Squire  for  one  of  those  smart  people  that  understands  all 
about  their  own  affairs.  It  must  take,"  he  continued,  survey- 
ing Caroline,  "  a  pretty  considerable  handsome  sum  to  furnish 
your  daughter  with  all  the  fine  clothes  I  see  her  wear.  I  dare 
say  that  her  gewgaws  (no  offence,  Miss  Caroline,  I  only  mean 
the  flourishes)  and  your  coach,  and  such  kind  of  knickknacks, 
cost  you  as  much  as  it  does  a  plain  man  like  me  tc  support 
my  whole  family,  and  bring  them  up  in  what  may  be  called  an 
honorable  manner." 

"  It  is  very  possible,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood. 

"  Well,"  pursued  the  indefatigable  man,  "  this  is  a  free 
country,  and  every  man  has  a  right  to  do  what  he  will  with 
his  own  ;  if  you  are  a  mind  to  dress  Miss  Caroline  in  dia- 
monds and  gold  beads,  it  is  none  of  my  affair.  You  never 
had  any  other  child  I  believe,  sir  ?" 

"  No,  sir."  ^ 

"  That  is  a  pity — such  a  fortune  as  you  mffe  to  give  makes 
a  girl  a  sort  of  prey  to  all  the  sharp-set  hunters  after  money  ; 
but  may  be  you  calculate  to  divide  some  of  your  property 
with  your  other  relations  ?" 

"  I  have  made  no  calculations  on  the  subject,  sir." 

"  I  wonder  you  have  never  married  again,  Mr.  Redwood  ; 
I  conclude  you  was  never  married  but  once  ?" 

"  You  have  a  right  to  your  own  conclusions,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Redwood  so  steqjly,  that  Ellen  involuntarily  looked  to- 
wards him.  His  eye  met  hers,  and  he  was  mortified  that  he 
should  have  betrayed  his  vexation,  and  he  became  still  more 
disconcerted  when  Ellen  said  playfully,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Lenox,  do 
9* 


202  REDWOOD. 

not  expect  Mr.  Redwood  to  tell  all  the  secrets  of  his  life  be- 
fore the  '  women  folks.' " 

"  Secrets  of  my  life !"  echoed  Mr.  Redwood,  but  in  a 
smothered  voice,  while  Caroline,  who  had  been  listening  in- 
tently to  the  close  of  the  conversation,  sprang  on  her  feet,  and 
grasping  Ellen's  arm,  exclaimed,  looking  on  her  as  if  she 
would  have  pierced  her  soul  with  the  inquiry,  "  Ellen  Bruce  ! 
what  do  you  mean  '?" 

The  movement  had  been  involuntary.  Caroline,  unused  to 
control  her  slightest  emotions,  could  not  resist  the  mastery  of 
a  strong  passion.  Ellen  turned  on  her  a  look  of  such  surprise 
and  innocence,  that  she  sunk  back  alarmed  at  her  own  precipi- 
tancy :  every  eye  was  now  fixed  on  her,  as  if  to  demand  an  ex- 
planation, while  Mr.  Redwood,  whose  mottled  cheek  and  con- 
tracted brow  betrayed  strong  emotion,  was  the  first  to  recover 
his  self-possession ;  and  when  Caroline,  hiding  her  face  with 
her  handkerchief,  said,  "  excuse  me,  Miss  Bruce,  I  am  not  well 
this  morning,"  her  father  said,  sternly,  "your  extraordinai-y 
conduct  needs  that  apology,  Caroline— oblige  me  with  a  few 
minutes  in  my  roflm." 

The  request  MR  too  much  the  tone  of  a  command  to  be 
disregarded,  and  Caroline  (glad  too  to  escape  observation)  fol- 
lowed her  father.  Mr.  Redwood  before  entering  his^room 
turned  to  Mr.  Lenox,  and  with  the  air  of  courtesy  that  always 
distinguished  him,  said,  "  My  good  friend  Lenox,  you  must 
forgive  my  rudeness.  We  southern  people  are  a  little  shy, 
and  do  not  understand  this  game  of  question  and  answer  as 
well  as  you  frank  northerners." 

"  Oh,  no  offence,  sir,  none  in  the  wjrld."  said  the  good- 
natured  Lenox,  "  it  is  a  free  country,  sir,  that  we  live  in,  and 
every  man  has  a  right  to  his  own  notions — be  they  ever  so  no- 
tional— that  is  my  doctrine." 


REDWOOD,  203 

"And  a  very  liberal  one,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood, 
slightly  bowing,  and  smiling  as  he  closed  the  door  after  him. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Lenox, "  women  are  strange  cattle.  Why, 
what  ailed  the  girl,  Ellen  :  is  she  hystericky  1  or  may  be,"  he 
added,  lowering  his  voice,  and  chuckling  with  the  pride  of  a 
discoverer — "  may  be  she  is  afraid  you'll  get  away  her  sweet- 
heart, Ellen,  ha  ?  have  I  guessed  it  ?"  It  was  now  poor  Ellen's 
turn  to  blush :  she  recollected  suddenly  that  Mrs.  Allen  had 
been  sitting  in  the  air  too  long,  and  begged  Mr.  Lenox  to  assist 
her  to  her  room ;  whither  she  followed,  leaving  Mrs.  Westall 
and  her  son  to  their  own  musings. 

Charles  Westall  returned  to  the  examination  of  the  draw- 
ings, which  Ellen  in  the  haste  of  her  attention  to  Mrs.  Allen 
had  forgotten. 

Little  Lucy  stood  by  his  side :  "  There,"  said  he,  to  the 
<ehild,  "  do  you  know  that  Miss  Bruce  has  put  you  into  the  pic- 
ture, just  as  you  sat  reading  to  your  aunt?" 

"  Oh,  has  she !     George  will  be  glad  to  see  me  there." 

"  George  !  who  is  George  ?"  inquired  Charles  Westall. 

"  My  brother  ?  don't  you  know  George  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not.     Is  the  picture  for  him,  I&cy  ? 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Westall ;  and  pray  why  should  not  it  be  for 
him  ?"^asked  the  simple  child,  giving  a  very  natural  interpre- 
tation to  the  shade  that  flitted  over  Westall's  face.  "  I  am 
sure,"  she  continued,  "  George  has  sent  a  great  many  beautiful 
books  to  Ellen,  and  George  loves  her." 

"  Does  he  ?"  exclaimed  Westall. 

"  Yes,  indeed  he  does ;  don't  you,  Mr.  Westall  ?  I  thought 
every  body  loved  Ellen." 

Lenox  at  this  moment  rejoined  them.  "Like  father,  like 
<child,"  exclaimed  he,  with  a  hearty  laugh  ;  "  come  along,  Lucy, 
you  and  I  ask  plaguy  unlucky  questions  this  morning.  Young 


204  REDWOOD. 

man,"  he  added,  turning  to  Charles,  "  I  take  a  fancy  to  yoa— 
and  if  you  do  get  any  whims  into  your  head,  all  the  harm  I 
wish  you  is,  that  you  may  have  better  luck  than  poor 
George." 

We  will  not  pretend  to  say  whether  it  was  the  information 
insinuated  in  the  kind-hearted  Lenox's  wish,  or  the  expression 
of  his  favor,  but  one  or  the  other,  or  both,  certainly  kindled  a 
bright  expression  of  pleasure  in  Westall's  face:  his  mother 
noticed  it,  and  after  Mr.  Lenox  had  walked  away,  she  said  to 
her  son,  "  I  am  surprised,  Charles,  that  you  do  not  repress 
that  man's  familiarity ;  he  is  really  becoming  intolerable.  * 

"  Oh,  not  at  all  so  to  me,  my  dear  mother." 

"  But,  Charles,  did  you  ever  hear  any  thing  so  impertinent 
as  his  questions  to  Mr.  Redwood  ?" 

"  They  scarcely  deserve  to  be  so  stigmatized.  Mr.  Lenox 
lives  in  a  simple  state  of  society,  where  each  man  knows  every 
particular  of  his  neighbor's  affairs,  and  he  never  suspected  that 
his  guest  would  not  be  as  free  to  tell  as  he  to  ask.  It  is- 
very  easy  to  see  all  the  imperfections  of  unpolished  surfaces ; 
but,  perhaps,  dear  mother,  as  your  eye  seems  somewhat  dazzled 
by  Miss  Redwoo4J»  charms,  you  did  not  notice  her  strange 
freak  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  noticed  it,  Charles,  but  I  did  not  think  it  strange. 
Caroline  has  been  out  of  spirits  all  the  morning — quite  deject- 
ed. You  wounded  her  feelings  last  night,  my  son,  too  severely; 
it  was  that  which  made  her  so  sensitive  this  morning.  She 
was  vexed,  as  she  ought  to  have  been,  with  the  idle  questions 
of  this  man  Lenox ;  and  perhaps  she  thought  (for  I  thought 
BO  myself)  that  there  was  something  too  familiar  in  Miss 
Bruce's  manner  and  observation." 

"  I  confess,  mother,  that  a  young  lady  who  gives  such  ener- 
getic demonstrations  of  her  vexation  at  an  offence  so  trifling, 


REDWOOD.  205 

is  rather  formidable ;  and  I  think,  with  you,  that  it  would  be 
prudent  to  avoid  her  resentment." 

"  But,  Charles,  I  am  in  earnest — you  are  trifling  with  your 
own  interest ;  and  I  am  sorry  to  say,  my  son,  that  you  seem 
to  have  forgotten  the  deep  obligations  we  are  under  to  Mr. 
Redwood— his  friendship  for  your  father — for  you.  Caroline's 
only  offence  seems  to  be  a  predilection  (perhaps  too  obvious) 
for  you,  and  the  kindest,  most  generous  affection  for  me."  Mrs. 
Westall  paused — she  thought  Charles's  silence  indicated  con- 
viction, and  she  ventured  to  proceed  a  step  farther  :  "  As  to  this 
Miss  Bruce,  her  story  is  quite  an  incredible  one.  Do  not  look 
at  me  thus,  my  son.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  an  intentional 
imposture  of  hers — I  dare  say  she  is — that  is,  she  may  be,  quite 
innocent  about  it ;  but  as  Caroline  says,  and  Caroline  has  un- 
common penetration — in  that  she  resembles  her  father — Caro- 
line says  that  it  must  be  an  invention  of  Ellen's  mother  to 
screen  the  disgrace  of  her  birth  ;  of  course  you  know  a  woman 
of  the  sort  that  her  mother  must  have  been  would  not  scruple 
a  contrivance  of  that  kind,  which  might  induce  some  credulous 
fellow,  as  Caroline  says,  to  marry  her  daughter.  No  conside- 
rate man,  certainly,  would  think  of  marryiig  a  woman  whose 
history  is  so  involved  in  mystery — as  Caroline  says,  no  man  in 
his  senses  should  forget  the  old  proverb, '  like  mother,  like 
daughter.' " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  my  dear  mother,"  exclaimed  Westall, 
unable  any  longer  to  maintain  his  dutiful  patience,  "  speak 
from  your  own  heart,  and  do  not  retail  to  me  any  more  of 
Miss  Redwood's  sayings  ;  forgive  me — I  cannot  endure  to  see 
her  play  on  your  kind  dispositions.  I  appeal,  my  dear  mother, 
to  your  own  heart.  Is  there  not  something  touching — sacred 
— in  Ellen  Brace's  faith  in  her  mother's  truth — in  her  scrupu- 
lous and  patient  fidelity  ?  I  declare  to  you,  if  Miss  Redwood 


206  REDWOOD. 

is  right  in  her  worst  conjectures,  I  think  the  parent's  fault  is 
redeemed  by  the  daughter's  virtue." 

Mrs.  Westall  knew  that  her  son  was  unmanageable  in  any 
matter  in  which  his  feelings  were  earnestly  engaged,  though 
habitually  yielding  in  trifles ;  she  saw  the  impossibility  of  stem- 
ming the  present  current  that  had  set  against  her.  Although 
dazzled  by  the  brilliant  prospects  that  she  had  imagined  were 
opening  to  her  son,  she  was  not  quite  insensible  to  the  virtuous 
feelings  that  governed  him,  and  when  she  concluded  the  con- 
versation by  saying,  "  Charles,  you  are  a  singular  being,"  there 
was  a  mixture  of  satisfaction  and  disappointment  in  the  con- 
fession. 

The  purely  accidental  inquiries  of  honest  Lenox  had  oper- 
ated like  the  apple  of  discord  on  the  group  assembled  at  the 
good  man's  door.  It  is  too  well  known  to  require  remark,  that 
this  busy  spirit  of  investigation  pervades  the  mass  of  society 
in  New  England — 'leaveneth  the  whole  lump.'  It  appears 
among  the  illiterate,  in  what  the  polite  call  '  idle  and  imperti- 
nent questions,'  and  among  the  educated,  in  a  very  free  and 
sometimes  inconvenient  spirit  of  inquiry  into  what  the  prudent 
or  austere  would  deem  unquestionable.  Whether  this  passion 
is  blamable  or  praiseworthy,  we  leave  to  those  whom  it  may 
concern  to  determine ;  but  certain  we  are  that  it  is  incurable  : 
since  it  has  been  our  chance  to  see  an  old  lady,  perfectly  blind 
and  deaf,  who,  by  taking  the  hand  of  a  friend,  and  understand- 
ing from  a  strong  or  feeble  pressure  an  affirmative  or  negative, 
contrived  so  ingeniously  and  indefatigably  to  vary  and  multiply 
her  questions,  as  to  ascertain  all  the  details  of  all  the  affairs 
of  all  her  acquaintance. 

There  had  been  so  many  agreeable  circumstances  in  Mr. 
Redwood's  situation,  that  he  had  for  the  most  part  endured 
this  inevitable  evil  with  good-nature ;  but  sometimes  his  wine- 


REDWOOD.  207 

ing  would  show  that  he  was  galled,  and  once  or  twice  he 
thought  that  the  case  of  the  poor  Dutchman,  who  is  said  to 
have  been  questioned  to  death  by  a  relentless  Yankee,  would 
not  have  been  a  singular  instance  of  the  fatal  efiects  of  this 
curious  mode  of  persecution. 


208  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  But  I  have  seen  since  past  the  Tweed, 
What  much  has  changed  my  skeptic  creed." 

MARMION. 

MR.  REDWOOD,  as  has  been  said,  retreated  to  his  room  ;  and 
Caroline,  with  the  appearance  at  least  of  passive  obedience, 
followed  him.  A  few  moments  reflection  restored  to  her  her  self- 
confidence.  She  now  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  felt  the  opera- 
tion of  powerful  motives,  and  the  strength  of  her  own  passions. 
She  was  destitute  of  natural  sensitiveness,  and  emboldened  by 
the  hardy  resolution  that  had  never  experienced  trial  nor  de- 
feat. Determined  to  repair  the  faults  of  her  sudden  gust  of 
passion  by  a  wariness  that  should  baffle  her  father's  penetra- 
tion, she  folded  her  arms  and  seated  herself  very  composedly, 
as  if  awaiting  her  father's  pleasure — while  he  walked  the  room 
in  extreme,  and  as  his  varying  color  indicated,  uncontrollable 
agitation.  He  complained  of  his  arm — it  was  excessively  pain- 
ful. "  Then,  sir,"  said  his  daughter,  with  the  most  perfect  non- 
chalance, "  the  attendance  of  the  physician  would  be  more 
appropriate  than  mine." 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood,  in  a  thrilling  tone  ;  "  no — 
there  is  no  physician  that  can  heal  my  wounds.  Oh  Caroline  !" 
he  continued,  suddenly  taking  her  hand,  "  you  are  my  child, 
my  only  child" — he  was  choked  by  his  emotion,  and  unable  to 


REDWOOD.  209 

proceed  ;  he  again  turned  from  her,  while  she,  with  a  coolness 
which  bordered  on  insult,  replied,  "  Yes,  sir,  so  I  flattered  my- 
self;  but  you  announce  it  as  if  it  were  a  discovery." 

Mr.  Redwood  sunk  into  a  chair,  his  face  betrayed  the 
strong  mental  conflict  he  was  suffering.  The  emotion  his 
daughter  had  manifested  at  the  question  and  remarks,  to  which, 
as  he  thought,  his  conscience  could  alone  give  significance,  had 
led  him  to  suppose  that  she  had  in  some  way  possessed  herself 
of  his  early  history,  and  he  had  suddenly  resolved  to  obtain 
from  her  all  she  knew,  and  to  disclose  to  her  all  of  which  she 
was  ignorant.  Her  manner  had  checked — congealed  the  cur- 
rent of  his  feelings  ;  his  habitual  reserve,  which  in  this  moment 
of  excitement,  a  kind  tone,  a  single  expression  of  gentleness, 
of  affectionate  sympathy,  would  have  dissipated  for  ever,  re- 
sumed its  power  over  him.  He  sat  silent  and  abstracted  until 
Caroline  said,  "  As  you  seem  to  have  no  farther  occasion  for 
me,  sir,  I  will  go  to  my  own  apartment." 

"  No,  stay,  Caroline — you  must  first  explain  to  me  your 
singular  conduct  to  Miss  Bruce." 

Miss  Redwood  said  there  was  nothing  to  explain — she 
meant  nothing — she  thought  it  very  extraordinary  that  she 
must  give  a  reason  for  every  movement — her  manner  might 
have  been  a  little  hurried — she  was  not  very  well,  she  was 
fatigued  with  her  walk — teased  to  death  with  old  Lenox's  im- 
pertinence, and  disgusted  with  Miss  Bruce. 

"  But  why  disgusted,  Caroline  1  It  seems  to  me  nothing 
could  be  more  proper  than  the  gentle  check  Miss  Bruce  gave 
to  Lenox  ;  nothing  more  innocent  and  unmeaning  than  what 
she  said." 

"  You  certainly,  sir,  are  the  most  competent  judge  of  her 
meaning — if  you  were  not  offended,  it  was  quite  unnecessary 
that  I  should  be  provoked." 


210  REDWOOD. 

"  Caroline  !  what  would  you  say — what  would  you  insin- 
uate ?" 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,  sir,"  she  answered,  and  added  with 
a  bitter  smile,  "  nothing  but  what  you  may  choose  to  under- 
stand. I  am  not  accustomed,"  she  continued,  undisturbedly 
enduring  her  father's  piercing  gaze — '  I  am  not  accustomed  to 
have  so  much  importance  attached  to  my  expressions.  Miss 
Bruce  may  walk  in  mystery,  and  talk  enigmas  with  impunity, 
while  I  am  made  accountable  for  every  deviation  from  a 
straight  line." 

Mr.  Redwood's  suspicions  were  again  averted  by  his  daugh- 
ter's skill  and  daring  in  parrying  his  question.  After  a  few 
moment's  consideration,  he  wondered  they  had  been  excited, 
and  believed  that  she  had  accidentally  touched  the  secret 
spring  which  he  alone  commanded.  He  said  something  of  the 
excitability  of  his  feelings  in  his  present  weak  state,  and  did 
not  permit  Caroline  to  leave  him  without  exhorting  her  to  be 
more  careful  and  conciliating  in  her  manners  for  the  little  time 
they  should  remain  at  Eton.  He  again  departed  from  the 
strict  reserve  he  had  imposed  upon  himself,  and  hinted  how 
much  he  should  be  pained  by  Caroline's  losing  the  esteem  of 
Westall,  and  even  how  much  he  should  be  gratified  by  her  se- 
curing and  returning  the  young  man's  affections.  She  replied, 
1  that  to  secure  Mr.  Westall's  affections  she  had  no  reason  to 
believe  would  be  a  difficult  enterprise — as  to  her  own,  she  was 
in  no  haste  to  dispose  of  them.' 

Her  father  commended  her  reserve,  said  he  had  no  wish  to 
control  her  choice  of  a  husband,  and  perhaps  no  right  to  ex- 
pect her  confidence. 

"  Our  intercourse,  sir,"  she  said,  rising  to  leave  the  room, 
a  has  not  been  particularly  confidential." 

"  Strange  girl !"  exclaimed  her  father,  as  she  closed  the 


EEDWOOD.  211 

door  after  her  ;  "  what  has  so  suddenly  invested  you  with  the 
power  to  torture  me  ?" 

Mr.  Redwood  began  now  to  talk  of  recommencing  his  jour- 
ney, which  Dr.  Bristol  assured  him  he  might  do  after  a  few  days 
without  any  hazard.  As  the  time  approached  for  his  depart- 
ure, he  felt  a  growing  reluctance  to  leave  the  rustic  friends  from 
whom  he  had  received  such  genuine  kindness,  and  whose  shaple 
and  tranquil  pleasures  had  in  some  degree  restored  a  health- 
ful tone  to  his  mind.  From  day  to  day  he  delayed  fixing  the 
time  of  their  departure,  for  which  both  Mrs.  Westall  and  Caro- 
line had  become  excessively  impatient.  The  blessing,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  of  '  those  that  wait,'  seemed  to  have  descended 
upon  Charles  Westall.  He  was,  as  he  insisted  it  became  him 
to  be,  since  he  was  in  attendance  on  his  superior,  a  monument 
of  patience.  It  is  possible  that  his  virtue  was  in  part  owing 
to  his  being  indulged  almost  constantly  with  Miss  Bruce's  so- 
ciety. Mrs.  Allen,  as  Deborah  had  suggested,  had  become 
quite  childish  ;  and  of  late  she  had  taken  a  whim  to  sit  con- 
stantly in  the  parlor,  where  the  company  was  in  the  habit  of 
assembling.  She  took  no  part  in  the  conversation,  which  she 
probably  did  not  understand,  but  (as  we  have  sometimes  re- 
marked of  persons  at  her  stage  of  existence)  the  variety  of 
tones  and  objects  appeared  to  afford  her  a  kind  of  excitement 
and  relief. 

Caroline  was  evidently  annoyed  by  this  new  arrangement, 
but  she  had  tact  enough  to  conceal  how  hard  it  was  for  her  to 
submit  to  it,  and  to  deport  herself  with  such  decent  decorum 
and  medium  civility,  as  in  general  to  avert  observation,  and 
most  effectually  to  conceal  her  secret  sentiments. 

Mrs.  "Westall,  who  was  really  amiable  when  not  perverted 
by  a  bad  influence,  was  sometimes  won  by  the  sweetness  of 
Ellen's  manners  to  forget  the  superior  attractions  of  Miss 


212  REDWOOD. 

Redwood  ;  and  Ellen,  happy  in  her  own  integrity,  and  uncon- 
scious of  design,  was  frank,  natural,  and  often  spirited :  so 
much  so,  that  Westall  thought  that  if  she  had  not  all  the  pen- 
sive and  serious  beauty  which  Deborah  had  attributed  to  her, 
she  possessed  a  variety  and  animation  that  were  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  spring-time  of  life.  For  himself,  with  the 
inconsequence  of  a  feeling  and  generous  nature,  he  abandoned 
himself  without  a  calculation  for  the  future  to  present  influ- 
ences. If  the  ladies  walked,  and  the  mother  flattered  herself 
that  by  her  skilful  disposition  she  had  secured  Charles's  attend- 
ance to  Caroline,  he  was  sure  to  revert  to  Ellen's  side  in  some 
direct  way,^hat  distanced  manoeuvring — if  he  read  aloud,  at 
every  fine  passage  his  eye  appealed  to  Ellen — in  every  con- 
versation they  expressed  almost  simultaneously  the  same  sen- 
timent. • 

On  one  occasion  their  sympathy  was  elicited  in  a  way  that 
excited  some  apprehension  in  the  observers  as  to  its  dangerous 
tendency.  Caroline  had  arranged  a  Turkish  turban  on  Mrs. 
Westall's  head,  which  she  pronounced  to  be  surprisingly  be- 
coming. 

"  See,  papa,"  she  said,  "  does  not  Mrs.  Westall  look  twenty 
years  younger  for  this  turban  ?" 

"  The  turban  does  you  infinite  credit  certainly,  Caroline," 
replied  her  father,  "  but  I  cannot  pay  it  a  compliment  which 
would  imply  that  any  disposition  of  her  dress  could  make  Mrs. 
Westall  look  twenty  years  younger." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Caroline,"  interposed  Mrs.  Westall,  '•  you 
know  not  how  far  you  tax  your  father's  sincerity  ;  he  knew  me 
twenty  years  ago — and  he  perceives  that  (as  Miss  Debby  insists, 
you  know)  '  every  year  has  made  its  mark.'  Time  makes  sad 
havoc  in  twenty  years,"  she  continued,  addressing  herself  to 
Mr.  Redwood  ;  "  I  think  it  is  little  more  than  that  since  my 


REDWOOD.  213 

beautiful  friend,  Mary  Erwine,  was  staying  with  me,  and  you 
were  almost  constantly  at  our  house — bless  me,  Caroline,  you 
have  run  that  pin  half  way  into  my  head." 

Caroline  '  begged  pardon — said  she  had  put  the  last  pin  in 
the  turban,  and  would  go  and  meet  Mr.  Westall,  who  she  saw 
coming  up  from  the  lake,  and  bespeak  his  suffrage  for  her 
taste.' 

The  mention  of  Mary  Erwine  appeared  to  have  revived  the 
pas>t  in  Mrs.  Westall's  memory.  "  Pray,  Mr.  Kedwood,"  she 
asked,  "  did  you  ever  see  Mary  after  she  went  to  live  with  the 
Emlyns  ?" 

"  Yes — repeatedly." 

There  was  something  startling  in  the  tone  of  Mr.  Red- 
wood's voice,  for  Ellen,  who  was  sitting  beside  Mrs.  Allen  at 
one  extremity  of  the  room,  let  fall  a  book  which  she  was 
intently  perusing,  and  looked  involuntarily  at  him  :  and  Mrs. 
Westall  said,  with  a  smile,  "  you  remind  me  of  one  of  my  dear 
Edmund's  sentimental  fancies — he  thought  you  were  in  love 
with  Mary."  Mr.  Redwood  made  no  reply,  and  she  continued 
— "  I  knew  you  would  not  think  of  her  of  course  ;  poor  Mary 
• — she  was  a  sweet  creature — such  simplicity  and  tenderness — 
and  such  perfect  beauty.  She  left  Virginia,  I  think,  soon  after 
you  embarked  for  Europe  :  indeed  it  was  not  long  after  that 
she  died.  I  never  could  endure  to  think  of  her  melancholy 
fate — so  beautiful  and  so  young — not  seventeen  when  she 
died." 

"  Miss  Bruce,"  interrupted  Mr.  Redwood,  "  may  I  trouble 
you  for  a  glass  of  water  ?"  Ellen  brought  one  from  an  ad- 
joining room. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mrs.  Westall,  "  it  never  struck  me 
before,  but  I  really  fancy  Miss  Bruce  resembles  Mary — did  it 
ever  occur  to  you  ?" 


214  REDWOOD. 

"  Yes,  madam — I  perceived  it — I  was  struck  with  it  the 
first  time  I  saw  Miss  Bruce." 

Mr.  Redwood  spoke  quick  and  with  a  tremulous  voice — he 
knew  that  he  had  betrayed  emotion,  and  anxious  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  conversation,  he  turned  suddenly  to  Ellen,  and  asked 
her  what  book  she  was  reading. 

"  The  Absentee." 

"  The  Absentee — a  tale  of  Miss  Edgeworth's,  I  believe — 
will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  read  aloud  ?" 

"  Certainly — but  I  am  near  the  conclusion  of  the  book." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence  ;  the  story  is  in  my  view  always 
a  subordinate  part — and  the  sense  and  spirit  of  Miss  Edge- 
worth's  dialogue — open  her  books  where  you  will — is  sure  to 
instruct  and  entertain  you." 

"  Well,  sir,  then  I  will  begin  where  I  am — just  at  the  ad- 
justment of  an  account  with  a  Mr.  Solo,  '  no  vulgar  trades- 
man.' " 

Ellen  read  aloud,  but  she  had  not  read  far  when  Caroline 
entered  with  Charles  Westall ;  and  she  laid  aside  her  book 
while  the  turban  was  discussed.  Westall  pronounced  it  to  be 
beautiful,  declared  it  could  not  have  been  in  better  taste  if  his 
mother  had  had  the  Graces  for  her  coiffeurs." 

"  But,  Miss  Bruce,"  he  said,  addressing  Ellen,  "  I  entreat 
that  we  may  not  interrupt  your  reading." 

"  No,  Miss  Ellen,"  said  Mr.  Redwood,  "  they  must  not — 
I  as  an  invalid  have  a  right  to  be  humored — I  beg  you  will 
proceed." 

Ellen  resumed  the  book,  and  read  with  feeling  and  expres- 
sion the  ever  memorable  scene  of  Colambre's  declaration  to 
Grace  Nugent,  till  she  came  to  the  passage  where  Colauibre 
says,  there  is  an  "  invincible  obstacle  "  to  their  union.  Her 
voice  faltered,  but  she  would  have  had  enough  self-command 


REDWOOD.  215 

to  proceed,  had  not  Mr.  Redwood  inquired,  "  what  obstacle 
could  be  invincible  where  a  creature,  so  frank,  so  charming, 
was  in  question  ?" 

"  A  sufficient  obstacle,  papa,"  interposed  Caroline  ;  "  Lord 
Colambre  believed  that  Miss  Nugent's  mother  was  not  '  sans 
reproche.' " 

"  That  may  be  a  sufficient  obstruction  in  a  work  of  fiction," 
replied  Mr.  Eedwood,  "  but  in  real  life,  with  a  man  of  sense 
and  feeling,  a  man  deeply  in  love  too,  I  fancy  it  would  not  be 
a  very  serious  objection.  What  say  you,  Charles,  you  are  a 
young  man  of  the  class  I  have  named  ?" 

Mr.  Redwood  looked  to  Westall  for  a  reply ;  he  perceived 
his  question  had  disconcerted  him — he  looked  at  Ellen,  her 
face  was  crimson — the  application  that  had  been  made  of  the 
fictitious  incident  instantly  flashed  across  his  mind.  "  I  per- 
ceive," he  added,  with  his  usual  adroitness,  "  that  I  have  pro- 
posed a  nice  question  in  ethics.  I  am  no  casuist,  and  was  not 
aware  that  it  admitted  a  doubt." 

•"  Nor  does  it,"  said  Westall,  recovering  himself  completely. 
"  I  know  not  how  it  may  be  in  conventional  ethics,  but  it  seems 
to  me  to  be  the  decision  of  natural  justice,  that  the  fault  of 
one  person  cannot  be  transferred  to  another — that  it  cannot 
be  right  to  make  an  innocent  child  suffer  for  the  guilt  of  its 
parent." 

Ellen  took  a  long  breath,  and  oppressed  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  feelings  which  she  feared  to  expose,  she  experienced 
the  greatest  relief  from  an  opportunity  that  was  afforded  her 
to  escape  from  the  apartment  without  attracting  observation  to 
herself,  by  Deborah's  appearance  at  the  door  with  a  letter  in 
her  hand,  and  a  summons  to  Mrs.  Lenox. 

Mrs.  Westall  and  Caroline  fell  into  a  conversation  which, 
though  conducted  in  a  whisper,  appeared  to  be  very  interesting 


216  REDWOOD. 

to  themselves.  Westall  took  up  the  book  Ellen  had  laid  down, 
his  eyes  seemed  spell-bound  to  the  page  she  had  been  reading, 
for  Mr  Redwood  (whose  vigilance  was  now  thoroughly 
awakened),  observed  that  he  did  not  turn  the  leaf;  and  Mr. 
Redwood  had  himself  an  ample  fund  for  meditation  in  the 
possibility  that  had  now  for  the  first  time  occurred  to  him  that 
Ellen,  the  undesigning  artless  Ellen,  might  frustrate  his  long- 
cherished  project. 

In  the  evening,  after  Mrs.  Westall  and  her  son  had  re- 
turned to  the  village,  and  Miss  Redwood  had  retired  to  her 
apartment,  Mr.  Redwood  was  still  sitting  in  the  parlor,  read- 
ing some  newspapers  which  had  been  received  by  the  day's 
mail ;  when  Ellen  entered,  and  after  apologizing  for  interrupt- 
ing him,  said,  "  that  she  had  just  determined  on  leaving  Eton 
in  the  morning,  and  she  was  not  willing  to  go  without  express- 
ing her  gratitude  to  Mr.  Redwood  for  the  kind  attentions  he 
had  bestowed  on  her." 

Mr.  Redwood,  after  expressing  his  surprise  and  regret,  in- 
quired the  cause  of  this  sudden  arrangement,  and  Ellen  stated 
to  him  that  Mrs.  Allen  had  just  received  a  letter  from  Emily, 
in  which,  without  expressly  allowing  that  she  was  unhappy,  she 
betrayed  discontent.  It  professed  to  be  written  merely  to  in- 
form her  grandmother  that  '  she  was  well,  and  that  she  hoped 
she  was  enjoying  the  same  blessing ;  she  said  '  it  was  a  big 
cross  she  had  taken  up  ;  that  all  that  called  themselves  Sha- 
kers, were  not  Shakers  indeed  ;  that  wherever  there  were  true 
disciples,  there  was  also  a  Judas ;  that  she  had  many  thoughts 
of  her  grandmother,  and  sometimes  it  was  so  much  in  her 
heart  to  go  home  to  her,  that  she  believed  she  had  a  call  to 
leave  "  the  people  ;"  but  that  her  elder  sister,  who  was  gifted 
to  interpret,  told  her  such  thoughts  were  temptation.'  The 
conclusion  of  the  letter,  Ellen  said,  was  evidently  drenched 


REDWOOD.  217 

with  the  poor  girl's  tears.  She  had  written  one  sentence  re- 
peatedly, and  as  often  crossed  it  out ;  they  had  been  able,  after 
many  vain  attempts,  to  decipher  it ;  it  ran  thus : — "  I  send  my 
kind  remembrance,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  James  Lenox  for  all 
his  goodness  to  my  natural  brother,  and  to  me  in  times  past : 
tell  James  also,  that  if  he  knew  what  trouble  some  people 
have,  he  would  not  blame  them,  but  rather  pity  them  from  his 
heart." 

';  This,  sir,"  continued  Ellen,  "  is  to  you  an  unmeaning 
jargon,  but  we,  from  our  knowledge  of  poor  Emily,  infer  from 
it  that  she  is  tired  of  her  unnatural  seclusion  ;  that  her  early 
attachment  to  James  has  revived  in  spite  of  her  dutiful  efforts 
to  extinguish  it ;  and  we  have  fears  that  she  is  suffering  perse- 
cution in  some  way  which  she  dare  not  communicate.  The 
letter  must  have  been  written  and  conveyed  away  secretly,  as 
it  was  post-marked  '  Albany  ;'  and  the  elders  would  never 
have  permitted  such  a  document  to  issue  from  their  retreat." 

"  And  why,"  asked  Mr.  Redwood,  "  should  this  letter  oc- 
casion your  departure  ?" 

"  It  has  been  determined  in  a  family  conference,"  replied 
Ellen,  "  that  an  effort  shall  be  made  to  rescue  Emily.  James, 
who  in  truth  has  long  loved  her,  is  most  earnest  in  her  cause. 
He  frankly  avows  his  attachment,  but  is  afraid  of  appearing 
in  the  enterprise,  lest  Emily  should  be  persuaded  by  her  spir- 
itual guides  that  he  is  an  emissary  from  the  arch  enemy.  De- 
borah, who  looks  upon  herself  as  a  natural  protector  of  the 
weak  and  oppressed,  has  volunteered  a  crusade  to  the  Shakers, 
provided  I  will  accompany  her.  She  has  an  extraordinary 
confidence  in  my  influence  with  Emily — and  with  Susan  too, 
the  '  elder  sister.'  " 

Mr.  Redwood  inquired  '  if  it  were  possible  that  she  would 

undertake  such  an  enterprise  with  no  protector  but  Deborah  ?' 
10 


2f8  REDWOOD, 

Ellen  assured  him  '  that  nothing  was  more  common  or  safe, 
than  for  females  to  travel  from  one  extremity  of  New  England 
to  the  other  without  any  other  safeguard  than  the  good  morals- 
and  'civility  of  the  inhabitants  ;  that  where  there  was  no  dan- 
ger there  was  no  need  of  protection,  and  that  for  her  own  part, 
she  should  esteem  her  good  friend  Deborah's  right  arm  as  suf- 
ficient a  defence  for  these  modern  times,  as  a  gallant  knight 
or  baron  bold  would  have  been  in  the  days  of  danger  and  of 
chivalry.' 

Mr.  Redwood  ventured  to  hint,  that  although  Miss  Dcbby 
might  be  a  sturdy  protector,  she  certainly  was  a  ludicrous  cha- 
perone  for  a  young  lady. 

Ellen  frankly  confessed  that  she  felt  a  little  squeamishneas 
on  that  account :  "  but,  sir,"  said  she,  "  I  never  could  forgive 
myself,  if  I  permitted  a  foolish  scruple  of  that  kind  to  prevent 
me  from  rendering  an  essential  service  to  the  Aliens.  I  owe 
them  a  vast  debt,  and  I  have  small  means  to  pay  it." 

Mr.  Redwood  commended  her  motive,  and  half  an  hour 
after  was,  perhaps,  glad  that  it  controlled  her,  but  at  this  mo- 
ment his  reluctance  to  part  with  her  overcame  his  apprehen- 
sion that  she  might  possibly  interfere  with  the  accomplishment 
of  his  favorite  project — he  earnestly  urged  delay ;  but  Ellen 
said  there  were  domestic  reasons  for  their  going  at  once  which 
she  could  not  oppose. 

"  Then,  my  de&r  Miss  Bruce,  if  I  must  part  with  you,  allow 
me  to  say,  that  I  feel  an  interest  almost  paternal  in  the  issue 
of  your  hopes — not  the  generous  hopes  you  are  indulging  for 
this  little  Shaker  girl,  but  those  which  relate  to  the  develop- 
ment of  your  own  history.  Oh,  Ellen !"  he  continued  with 
emotion,  and  fixing  his  melancholy  eye  steadfastly  upon  her, 
"  you  little  dream  of  the  supernatural  power  your  face  possesses 
over  my  feelings — my  memory :  there  are  thoughts  that  quite 


REDWOOD.  219 

unman  me ;"  he  clasped  his  hands  and  was  silent,  while  Ellen 
awaited  in  amazement  and  trembling  expectation  what  he 
should  next  say:  but  after  a  moment's  pause,  he  resumed  his 
composure,  and  proceeded  in  his  ordinary  tone.  "  Your  society, 
Ellen,  has  been  a  cordial  to  my  weary  spirit.  I  have  worn  out 
the  world ;  but  here,  in  this  still  place — amid  these  quiet  scenes 
— where  the  sweet  spirit  of  contentment  dwells,  here,"  he  add- 
ed, taking  Ellen's  hand,  "  where  I  have  seen  that  it  is  possible 
to  forego  the  display  of  talent  and  the  gratification  of  taste,  to 
practise  the  obscure  virtues  which  are  the  peculiar  boast  of 
your  religion — the  virtues  silent  and  secret,  that  neither  ask 
nor  expect  earthly  notice  or  reward — here  I  have  felt  a  new 
influence — I  have  seemed  to  breathe  a  purer,  a  heavenly  air — 
and  I  have  sometimes  hoped" — 

"  What,  sir,  what  ?"  exclaimed  Ellen,  eagerly. 

"  That  you  would  make  a  convert  of  me,  my  sweet  friend." 

"  Would  to  heaven !"  said  Ellen. 

"  Nay,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood,  mournfully  shaking  his  head, 
"  I  believe  it  is  too  late.  It  is  a  beautiful  illusion ;  but  I  have 
outlived  all  illusions,  Ellen :  the  man  cannot  return  to  the 
leading-strings  of  infancy — he  cannot  unlearn  his  philosophy — 
he  cannot  forget  his  experience." 

"  But  he  can  examine  if  his  philosophy  be  the  true  one — 
Oh  Mr.  Redwood" — Ellen  blushed  and  faltered,  her  heart  was 
overflowing — but  the  natural  timidity  of  a  woman  in  the  pre- 
sence of  a  man,  her  elder  and  superior,  restrained  her :  she 
was  frightened  at  her  own  daring — and  while  she  hesitated, 
Mr.  Redwood  said,  "  Spare  yourself  any  farther  trouble 
about  me,  Ellen — I  am  too  rigid  to  bend  to  a  new  yoke. 
It  would  be  as  impossible  for  me  to  adopt  your  faith  as  for 
you  to  assume  the  manacles  of  your  friend  Susan  Allen. 
But  I  am  not  cruel  enough  to  wish  to  weaken  your  hopes — 


220  REDWOOD. 

we  will  waive  this  subject — do  you   go  without  seeing  the 
Westalls?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  go  early." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it ;  they  will  regret  it — they  both  esteem 
you,  Miss  Bruce.  We  must  all  support  your  departure  as 
well  as  we  can — when  you  are  gone,  much  as  I  like  the  Len- 
oxes, I  shall  no  longer  find  it  impossible  to  tear  myself  away. 
The  Westalls  will,  I  hope,  accompany  us  to  New  York  and 
Philadelphia — perhaps  to  Virginia.  Westall  shall  never  leave 
us  if  we  can  detain  him.  Ellen,  you  are  worthy  of  all  confi- 
dence, and  I  will  venture  to  tell  you,  what  indeed  you  may 
have  already  discerned,  that  I  am  extremely  desirous  to  ally 
my  daughter  with  Charles  Westall.  You  look  grave — you  do 
not  think  Caroline  worthy  so  happy  a  destiny?" 

Mr.  Redwood  perceived  that  Ellen  was  embarrassed,  and 
he  proceeded  :  "  I  will  not  tax  your  sincerity,  Miss  Bruce  ;  my 
daughter  has  faults,  great  faults — still  she  has  splendid  attrac- 
tions :  her  beauty  might  gratify  the  pride  of  any  man — her 
fortune  is  immense — and  if  she  has  faults,  why,  I  know  no  one 
so  likely  to  cure  them  as  Charles  Westall.  I  have  not.  I  con- 
fess, as  yet  observed  any  indications  of  a  particular  interest  in 
her ;  but  she  has  insinuated  in  a  conversation  that  we  have 
had  together,  that  she  has  it  in  her  pow,er  to  receive  or  reject 
him." 

Ellen  walked  to  the  window  and  threw  up  the  sash.  "  You 
look  pale,  Miss  Bruce,  are  you  not  well?"  continued  Mr. 
Redwood. 

"  Perfectly  well,"  she  replied,  "  but  the  evening  is  oppres- 
sively warm." 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that."  said  Mr.  Redwood,  shivering  as 
the  chill  air  blew  on  him  from  the  window. 

"  I  believe  it  is  not  very  warm,"  replied  Ellen,  closing  the 


REDWOOD.  221 

window.  "  I  am  fatigued  with  the  preparations  for  our  jour- 
ney." she  added,  reseating  herself  with  her  face  averted  from 
Mr.  Redwood. 

"  I  will  detain  you  but  one  moment  longer,  Miss  Bruce ; 
should  you  from  your  own  observations  conclude  that  Westall 
was  interested  in  my  daughter  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say,  sir — I  know  nothing  of  the  manners  of  the 
world." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  you  should  :  women  have  an  instinct 
on  this  subject  that  surpasses  the  sagacity  of  experience — tell 
me  then  frankly  the  result  of  your  observations." 

Ellen,  after  making  a  vain  effort  to  reply  with  composure, 
stammered  out,  that  "  Miss  Redwood  certainly  must  know, 
and  Miss  Redwood  had  said — "  Here  she  hesitated  again, 
and  Mr.  Redwood  compassionating  her  embarrassment,  said, 
"  You  are  right,  Ellen — you  are  too  prudent  to  flatter  my 
wishes." 

Ellen,  anxious  to  avail  herself  of  this  moment,  rose,  and 
giving  Mr.  Redwood  her  hand,  bade  him  farewell — he  reiter- 
ated his  expression  OT  interest  and  kindness,  and  they  parted. 
'  Poor  girl !'  thought  Mr.  Redwood,  as  she  closed  the  door  ;  '  it 
is  as  I  suspected :  the  most  virtuous  seem  always  the  most 
persecuted  by  destiny.  Why  should  another  thorn  be  planted 
in  her  innocent  bosom  ?'  Mr.  Redwood  felt  a  consciousness 
that  he  might  avert  the  destiny  he  deprecated — he  had  virtue 
for  good  emotions,  but  not  for  the  difficult  sacrifice  of  a  favorite 
object.  Believing  as  he  had.  that  the  best  owe  most  of  their 
virtue  to  the  applause  of  society,  or  to  the  flattery  of  their  lit- 
tle world  ;  the  unostentatious  goodness  of  Ellen  (dignified  as 
he  deemed  her  by  talents  and  cultivation)  had  made  a  deep 
and  ineffaceable  impression  on  him.  He  sat  for  a  long  time 
meditating  on  her  character  and  singular  history  ;  he  thought 


222  REDWOOD. 

that  if  there  were  ever  two  beings  formed  to  make  a  joyous 
path  over  this  wilderness  world,  they  were  Ellen  and  Westall. 
He  reproached  himself  with  wishing  to  interpose  his  plans  to 
frustrate  such  possible  happiness.  ~~~fie  thought  he  never  came 
in  contact  with  the  good  and  lovely  without  inflicting  suffering 
on  them. 

It  had  been  Mr.  Eedwood's  destiny  through  life  to  feel 
right  and  to  act  wrong — to  see  and  to  feel,  deeply  feel,  the 
beauty  of  virtue,  but  to  resign  himself  to  the  Convenience  or 
expediency  of  wrong.  His  impulses  were  good — but  what 
is  impulse  without  principle?  what  is  it  to  resist  the  eter- 
nal solicitations  of  selfishness,  the  sweeping  tempests  of 
passion  ? 

Mr.  Redwood  had  an  unconquerable  wish  to  bestow  some 
benefit  on  Ellen.  He  had  none  in  his  power  but  of  a  pecu- 
niary nature,  a^jid  that  it  was  difficult  to  offer  without  offending 
her  delicacy.  He  determined,  however,  to  do  it,  and  he  in- 
closed bank  notes  to  the  amount  of  five  hundred  dollars  in  the 
following  note : 

"  My  dear  Miss  Bruce  must  not  punish  my  temerity  in 
offering  her  the  inclosed,  by  refusing  to  accept  it.  Being  a 
parent,  I  understand  the  wants  of  a  young  lady — allow  me 
then  to  act  as  the  representative  of  your  father.  By  permit- 
ting me  now  and  in  future  to  supply  those  vulgar  wants,  from 
which  none  of  us  are  exempt,  you  will  make  me  a  convert  to 
the  common  opinion,  that  a  rich  man  is  enviable." 

After  sealing  the  packet,  he  gave  it  to  Deborah,  with  a 
request  that  she  would  not  deliver  it  until  after  she  and  her 
companion  had  left  Eton. 

Ellen  retired  to  her  room  to  occupy  herself  with  the  pre- 
parations for  her  journey.  Her  wardrobe  was  simple,  but  neat, 
and  not  inelegant.  It  had  been  amply  furnished,  not  only 


REDWOOD.  223 

with  necessaries,  but  with  the  little  luxuries  of  a  lady's  equi- 
page by  Mrs.  Harrison,  from  the  -abundant  stores  of  her  youth- 
ful arA  prosperous  days.  The  costume  in  which  a  lady  of  for- 
tune l.ud  figured  twenty  years  gone  by,  would  have  been  quite 
too  antique,  but,  happily,  Ellen's  taste  and  ingenuity  enabled 
her  gracefully  to  adapt  it  to  her  own  person  and  the  fashion 
of  the  day.  The  journey  she  was  about  to  undertake  was  a 
long  one,  and,  in  obedience  to  the  wise  caution  of  Mrs.  Lenox, 
she  prepared  for  any  delay  that  might  occur  ;  a  prudence  en- 
forced by  Deborah,  who  said  that,  as  she  had  not  journeyed  for 
twenty  years,  she  should  not  hurry  home.  After  packing  her 
trunk,  she  made  a  safe  corner  in  it  for  her  casket,  little  dream- 
ing that  its  treasure  was  gone.  She  had  never  been  separated 
from  it  since  it  was  first  transferred  to  her  possession.  She  lock- 
ed her  trunk,  arranged  her  dressing-case,  ami  took  up  her  Bible 
to  place  in  it — a  beautiful  little  Bible  with  gold  ^asps,  the  gift 
too  of  Mrs.  Harrison.  Her  recent  conversation  with  Mr.  Red- 
wood made  her  feel  its  value,  particularly  at  this  moment. 
Her  eye  glistened  while  she  kissed  it  with  an  emotion  of  grati- 
tude at  the  thought  or  the  solace  it  had  been,  and  would  be  to 
her.  Such  emotions  prove  that  religious  sufferers  have  a  com- 
pensation for  their  trials.  A  wish  suddenly  arose  in  Ellen's 
mind  that  she  could  impart  the  truths  and  consolations  of  that 
book  to  Mr.  Redwood.  The  thought  seemed  like  inspiration. 
If  she  was  enthusiastic,  who  can  blame  an  enthusiasm  so  be- 
nevolent ?  She  wrapped  the  book  with  this  short  note  in  an 
envelope : — "  My  dear  Mr.  Redwood,  accept  and  value  this 
treasure  for  the  sake  of  your  friend  Ellen  Bruce — may  I  not 
say  for  your  own  sake — G-od  bless  you." 

She  left  the  packet  with  Mrs.  Lenox  to  be  delivered  after 
her  departure.  As  she  was  returning  to  her  own  room  she 
heard  "Westall's  voice  in  the  parlor :  he  had  come  back  with 


224  REDWOOD. 

• 

some  message  from  his  mother  for  Miss  Redwood.  Ellen 
obeyed  the  first  impulse  of  her  feeling,  and  moved  towards  the 
parlor  door  :  she  felt  her  heart  beating  violently,  and  surprised 
and  alarmed  at  her  own  agitation,  she  retreated  reluctantly  to- 
her  apartment.  '  Perhaps,'  she  thought,  '  Mr.  Redwood  will 
tell  him  that  I  am  going  away,  and  he  will  ask  to  see  nie. 
But  soon  after  she  heard  him  shut  the  parlor  door — heard  him 
go  out  of  the  house — and  at  the  last  sound  of  his  retiring  foot- 
steps she  burst  into  tears.  Shocked  at  the  discovery  of  her 
own  feelings,  she  hastily  undressed,  and  threw  herself  on  the- 
bed  in  the  hope  that  sleep  would  dispel  the  images  that  crowded 
her  mind — but  sleep  she  could  not.  In  the  multitude  of  her 
thoughts  ;  her  anxiety  for  Emily,  her  concern  at  leaving  M  rs. 
Allen,  her  regret  at  parting  with  Mr.  Redwood,  there  was  still 
one  that  predominated  over  every  other.  Was  it  possible  that 
Westall,  pure,  excellent,  elevated  as  he  was,  could  love  Caro- 
line Redwood?  or  worse — not  loving,  could  he  marry  her? 
It  must  be  so — if  it  were  not,  all  womanly  feeling  would  have 
forbidden  the  communication  Caroline  had  made  to  her  father. 
Ellen  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  she^rad  no  other  interest 
in  it  than  that  benevolent  one  which  it  was  natural  and  right 
to  feel  in  Westall's  happiness :  but  alas  !  the  melancholy  re- 
sult of  her  '  maiden  meditation,'  was  that  she  was  not  '  fancy 
free  ;'  and,  involuntarily,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hand* 
as  if  she  would  have  hidden  from  her  own  consciousness  the 
tears  and  blushes  which  the  discovery  cost  her. 

At  this  moment  she  was  startled  by  a  loud  shriek  from 
Caroline.  She  sprang  to  her  bedside,  and  Caroline  grasping 
her  arm,  stared  wildly  at  her.  as  if  the  phantom  that  had  scared 
her  sleep  had  not  yet  vanished. 

"  You  were  dreaming,  Miss  Redwood." 

"  Dreaming  !  was  I  dreaming  ?"   said  Caroline,  still  con- 


REDWOOD.  225 

• 

tinuing  her  fixed  gaze  on  Ellen,  "  bring  the  light  nearer,  Ellen. 
— Yes,  thank  God  !  I  was  dreaming." 

"  What  dream,  Miss  Redwood,  could  thus  terrify 
you  ?" 

"  Oh,  Ellen,  I  thought  I  saw  you  and  Westall  standing  to- 
gether on  the  summit  of  that  rock  on  the  lake-shore  ;  and 
there  was  a  soft  silvery  cloud  floating  just  over  you — it  parted, 
and  I  saw  a  beautiful  spiritual  creature  bending  from  it — her 
garments  of  light  floated  on  the  bright  cloud — she  had  a  chap- 
let  of  white  flowers  in  her  hand  like  those  you  plucked  for 
me :  while  I  was  gazing  to  see  if  she  would  place  it  on  your 
head  the  earth  trembled  where  I  stood,  a  frightful  chasm 
yawned  before  me,  and  my  father  was  hurling  me  into  it,  when 
I  awoke." 

"  It  was  a  strange  dream,"  said  Ellen,  with  a  melancholy 
smile. 

"  How  strange,  Miss  Bruce  ?  can  you  read  dreams  ?  have 
you  faith  in  them  ?" 

"  Not  the  least ;  and  it  is  well  for  me  that  I  have  not,  for 

, 

in  this  case,  as  dreams  are  interpreted  by  contraries,  you  would 
be  on  the  rock  and  I  in  the  chasm." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Caroline  ;  "  but  it  was,  as  you  Bay, 
a  strange  dream ;  even  now  I  see  his  eye  bent  on  you." 

"  Whose  eye  ?"  inquired  Ellen,  who  began  to  think  Caro- 
line had  really  lost  her  senses. 

"  Westall's,"  she  replied,  her  brow  again  contracting. 

"  Your  dream  then  is  already  working  by  rule,  for  his  eye 
will  never  be  bent  on  me  again." 

"  Never  !  What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Bruce?" 

Ellen  explained  to  Caroline  that  she  was  to  leave  Eton  in 
the  morning,  and  should  not  return  for  some  weeks. 

"  Thank  God  !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  springing  from  the  bed, 
10* 


226  REDWOOD. 

entirely  unable  to  control  the  relief  she  felt  from  Ellen's  infor 
mation. 

Ellen  rose  also  :  she  said  nothing,  but  her  face  expressed 
so  plainly — "  In  what  have  I  offended  ?''  that  after  a  moment's 
pause,  Caroline  proceeded  to  say,  "  It,  is  in  vain,  Ellen  Bruce 
— it  is  useless  longer  to  conceal  my  feelings  towards  you — sleep- 
ing or  waking  they  are  always  the  same  ;  from  the  first  moment 
that  we  met,  you  have  in  every  way  injured  me — crossed  my 
purposes — baffled  my  hopes — and  all  under  cover  of  such  art- 
lessness,  such  simplicity.  Above  all  things  I  hate  hypocrisy, 
and  I  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  telling  you  before  you  gor 
that  I  at  least  have  seen  through  your  disguises,  and  neither 
set  you  down  for  an  innocent  nor  a  saint." 

Ellen  was  confounded  with  this  sudden  burst  of  passion. 
"  I  know  not,  Miss  Redwood,"  she  said,  calmly,  "  what  you? 
mean  by  your  insinuations.  I  know  not  how  I  have  interfered 
with  you :  but  one  thing  I  know,  that  your  opinion,  determined' 
as  you  are  to  misunderstand  and  misrepresent  me,  ought  not — 
cannot  affect  my  happiness." 

"  Lord  bless  me,  how  heroic  !  but  there  is  one  whose  opin- 
ion may  possibly  affect  your  happiness.  Mrs.  Westall  sees 
through  you  as  plainly  as  I  do,  and  if  she  can  help  it,  I  assure 
you  you  will  not  succeed  in  wheedling  her  son  out  of  his  affec- 
tions and  senses,  with  all  your  pretty  romantic  devices." 

"  My  devices  !  oh,  Miss  Redwood,  you  are  cruel — what  are 
my  devices?" 

"  Really,  Miss  Ellen  Bruce,  you  flatter  yourself  they  have 
all  passed  current  with  us  simple  ones — the  trumpery  story 
about  the  box — a  fine  Arabian  night's  entertainment,  truly ; 
your  dragging  that  old  woman  day  after  day  into  the  parlor  to 
practise  your  benevolence  upon,  as  the /milliners  display  their 
fashions  on  the  blocks ;  the  pretty  tale  of  the  blind  girl,  admi- 


REDWOOD.  '227 

rably  got  up  to  be  sure,  with  a  hundred  other  inferior  instances 
of  jour  mode  of  practice  upon  the  romantic  unsuspecting 
Westall." 

Ellen  could  have  borne  unmoved  Caroline's  malice,  but  the 
thought  of  the  odious  light  in  which  she  should  be  presented 
to  Westall  quite  overcame  her  fortitude.  "I  could  not  have 
believed  Mrs.  Westall  so  ungenerous — so  unjust,"  said  she, 
bursting  into  tears. 

'  Ah,'  thought  Caroline,  '  I  have  touched  the  vulnerable 
spot ;'  and  she  would  have  proceeded  with  savage  barbarity  in 
the  application  of  her  tortures,  but  she  was  interrupted.  Mrs. 
Lenox  tapped  at  the  door  to  say  that  Deborah  was  in  readiness, 
and  to  beg  Ellen  to  dispatch  her  preparations. 

Mrs.  Lenox's  voice  operated  as  a  sedative  upon  Caroline  : 
she  sat  down  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  Ellen,  while  she,  with  trem- 
bling hands  proceeded  to  array  herself  for  her  departure. 
When  every  thing  was  in  readiness,  she  approached  Caroline, 
and  said,  with  a  faltering  voice,  "  Miss  Redwood,  I  forgive  you ; 
may  God  forgive  your  unkind,  unnatural  treatment  of  one  who 
never  injured  you  in  thought,  word,  or  deed.  I  would  ask  you 
to  spare  me  when  I  am  gone,  but  I  have  no  reason  to  hope  for 
that.  To  God,"  she  continued,  with  a  solemnity  that  appalled 
Caroline,  "  to  God,  my  father  and  my  friend,  I  commit  my  cause 
— I  have  no  earthly  protector,  and  I  need  none.  We  part  for 
ever ;  this  for  ever  compasses  the  limit  of  our  earthly  career, 
and  brings  us  to  that  presence  where  we  must  next  meet,  where 
all  injustice  will  be  exposed — all  wrong  repaired." 

Caroline  had  covered  her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  vision 
of  innocence  and  loveliness.  Ellen's  words  touched  her  wifch 
a  feeling  of  remorse,  and  awakened  appalling  fears :  her  pas- 
sions were  turbulent,  but  not  yet  hardened  into  the  resolution 
of  one  inured  to  the  practice  of  evil.  As  Ellen  turned  from 


228  REDWOOD. 

her,  she  started  from  the  bed  and  exclaimed,  "  Stay,  Ellen 
Bruce,  stay — give  me  one  moment's  time.':  Ellen  paused  and 
looked  at  her  with  mute  amazement,  while  she  walked  the  room 
in  an  agony  of  indecision.  Among  other  valuable  branches  of 
education,  Caroline  had  been  taught  to  believe  in  dreams  and 
all  their  train  of  signs,  omens,  and  premonitions ;  her  fancy 
had  been  excited  by  the  airy  nothings  of  the  night's  vision. 
Ellen's  last  words  struck  upon  her  ear  like  the  voice  of  pro- 
phecy. She  imagined  that  her  innocent  victim  was  wrested 
from  her,  and  that  she  beheld  the  visible  interposition  of  hea- 
ven in  her  behalf — that  chasm,  that  dark,  deep,  frightful  chasm, 
yawned  before  her,  and  the  thought  that  she  could  in  no  way 
close  it  up,  but  by  the  restoration  of  the  rifled  treasure,  came 
to  her  like  an  impulse  from  a  good  spirit :  obedient  to  it  she 
had  risen  from  the  bed,  but  she  faltered  in  the  execution  of  her 
good  purpose :  she  shrunk  from  the  train  of  evils  that  her  busy 
thoughts  suggested :  the  certain  loss  of  Westall — Ellen's  ad- 
vancement to  fortune,  rank,  and  fashion  equal  to  her  own — the 
exposure  of  her  own  baseness, — that  she  could  not  brook  ;  and 
'  I  cannot  humble  myself  to  her,1  was  the  mental  conclusion  of 
her  deliberations.  '  When  she  is  gone.  I  can.  if  I  choose,  re- 
store the  articles  as  secretly  as  I  took  them ;  the  discovery  will 
then  be  delayed — Westall  secured.' 

This  feeble  intention  to  render  imperfect  justice  quieted 
her  conscience:  while  she  was  deliberating  what  gloss  she 
should  put  on  her  mysterious  conduct  Deborah  opened  the  door. 
"Heyday,"  said  she,  "are  you  up,  Miss  Caroline?  well,  I  am 
glad  of  it.  you  will  have  a  chance  to  see  the  sun  rise  once  in 
your  life ;  and  when  he  comes  a  sailing  over  those  bills,  and 
pours  a  shower  of  light  on  Champlain.  youll  own  there  is  not 
such  a  sight  in  all  the  Car linas :  good  luck*  and  a  husband  to  you, 
girl.  Come  Ellen,  come,  what  signifies  losing  anymore  lost  time  ln 


REDWOOD.  229 

Ellen  assured  Deborah  she  was  quite  ready ;  and  Deborah, 
who  would  not  on  compulsion  have  performed  a  menial  service 
for  a  queen,  took  Ellen's  trunk  in  her  arms,  and  commanding 
her  to  follow  l  with  the  knickknacks,'  she  left  the  apartment. 

Ellen  looked  inquiringly  at  Caroline :  "  I  have  nothing  far- 
ther to  say,  Miss  Bruce." 

"  Then,  farewell,"  said  Ellen.  Caroline  bowed,  and  they 
parted. 


230  KEDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  Lassie,  say  thou  lo'est  me, 
Or  if  thou  wilt  na  be  my  ain, 
Say  na  thou'lt  refuse  me." — BURNS. 

Tne  breakfast  was  soon  dispatched,  and  our  travellers,  after 
receiving  many  wise  cautions  from  Mrs.  Lenox,  and  earnest 
injunctions  from  James,  mounted  into  an  old-fashioned  chaise, 
and  commenced  their  journey. 

We  hope  our  romantic  readers  will  not  regret  that  our  he- 
roine could  not  be  accommodated  with  a  more  poetical  or  dig- 
nified vehicle.  They  ought  rather  to  rejoice  that  she  did  not 
fall  upon  these  evil  times,  when,  beyond  a  doubt,  she  would 
have  been  compelled  to  perform  the  journey  in  a  one-horse 
wagon — a  '  kill  devil ' — or.  to  give  it  its  original  and  appro- 
priate designation — a  Dearborn  ;  so  called  from  the  illustrious 
author  of  the  invention ;  a  vehicle  that  commends  itself  so 
strongly  to  the  social  temper  of  the  Yankees,  that  it  has  in 
the  interior  of  New  England  nearly  superseded  the  use  of 
every  other  carriage,  drawn  by  one  horse. 

Our  travellers  had  proceeded  a  few  miles  when  Deborah 
thought  she  might  give  Ellen  the  packet  with  which  she  had 
been  intrusted,  without  violating  the  fetter  of  Mr.  Redwood's 
direction.  Her  surprise  surpassed  Ellen's  when  she  beheld 


REDWOOD.  231 

its  contents.  Slie  begged  her  to  read  the  letter  aloud.  Ellen 
read  it  with  a  trembling  voice.  "  The  Lord  bless  his  dear 
heart !"  exclaimed  Deborah. 

"  Oh  Ellen,  I  wish  he  had  you  for  his  child,  instead  of  that 

;  never  mind,  I'll  overlook  her  for  the  sake  of  her  father 

~-count  the  money,  girl,  count  it — you  can't !"  she  added, 
looking  at  Ellen,  whose  eyes  were  overflowing,  "give  it  to  me,' 
my  sight  is  rather  dull  too,"  and  she  dashed  off  the  tears  that 
clouded  her  vision.  "  Five  hundred  is  it  ?  you  are  rich  ;  you  are 
an  heiress,  Ellen !" 

"  I  am  indeed,"  replied  Ellen,  "  rich  in  kind  friends ;  but 
this  money,  Miss  Deborah,  must  be  returned  !" 

"  Returned  !"  echoed  Debby ;  "  why  you  would  not  be  such 
a  born  fool,  girl  ?  a  thirsty  man  might  as  well  throw  away  a 
draught  from  an  eternal  fountain, '  No,  no,  Ellen,  when  the 
rich  give,  let  the  poor  receive  and  be  thankful ;  that  is  always 
encouragement  to  them  to  go  on.  Returned  indeed  !  it  would 
be  a  slighting  o'  Providence  to  return  it,  Ell  en^— quite  out  of 
all  reason  and  natur.  Just  like  one  of  Mrs.  Harrison's  su- 
perstitious, high-flown  notions." 

It  was  impossible  for  Ellen  to  communicate  all  the  motives 
that  led  her  to  decline  a  pecuniary  favor  from  Miss  Redwood's 
father ;  but  she  suggested  reasons  which  she  thought  would 
appeal  to  her  companion's  characteristic  independence.  The 
veteran  maiden  opposed  them  all — she  had  advanced  into  the 
cold  climate  of  worldly  prudence,  but  Ellen  was  at  that  age 
when  sentiment  controls  interest.  In  vain  Debby  continued 
her  remonstrances.  Ellen,  heedless  of  them  all,  wrote  with  a 
pencil  an  affecting  expression  of  her  gratitude  on  the  envelope 
of  the  packet,  and  reversing  it.  she  directed  it  to  Mr.  Red- 
wood, intending  to  procure  at  the  next  village  a  trusty  persoa 
to  re-convey  it  to  Eton. 


232  REDWOOD. 

The  travellers  had  just  reached  a  small  brook  which  inter- 
cepted the  road  :  there  was  a  bridge  over  it,  and  a  road  by  the 
side  of  the  bridge  by  which  passengers  descended  to  the  brook 
for  the  purpose  of  watering  ^heir  horses.  Deborah  thought  it 
was  time  to  perform  that  kind  office  for  her  steed  ;  she  alighted 
to  arrange  the  bridle,  and  desiring  Ellen  to  drive  through  the 
stream,  said  she  would  herself  walk  up  the  hill  on  the  other 
side.  The  passage  to  the  brook  was  shaded  and  hidden  by 
thick  clumps  of  willow  trees.  As  Ellen  reined  her  horse  into 
the  narrow  way  she  encountered  Westall,  who  had  gone  out  for 
a  morning  ride. 

"  Miss  Bruce,  is  it  possible  ?"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  tone 
and  expression  of  delight  that  changed  instantly  on  noticing 
her  riding-dress  and  other  indications  of  travelling.  "  Where," 
he  continued,  "  are  you  going  ?  What  can  be  the  reason  of 
your  sudden  departure  ?" 

Ellen  communicated,  as  briefly  as  possible,  the  object  of 
her  journey,  and  the  place  of  her  destination.  In  the  mean- 
time the  poor  beast,  quite  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  restraint 
put  upon  his  movements,  and  not  a  whit  inclined  to  play  Tan- 
talus in  full  view  of  the  pure  tempting  rivulet,  threw  up  his 
head,  pawed  the  dust,  and  showed  all  the  signs  of  impatience 
common  on  such  occasions.  Ellen,  usually  sufficiently  ac- 
complished in  the  art  of  driving,  now,  from  some  cause  or 
other,  seemed  as  maladroit  as  most  women :  she  pulled  the 
wrong  rein,  and  was,  or  Westall  thought  she  was,  in  imminent 
danger  of  an  overturn.  He  dismounted  from  his  horse,  and 
springing  into  the  chaise  beside  her,  took  upon  himself  the 
conduct  of  affairs.  He  then,  with  laudable  discretion,  per- 
mitted the  animal  to  drink,  and  drove  him  to  the  opposite 
bank,  before  the  conversation  was  renewed.  As  he  paused 
there,  Ellen  said,  with  the  best  voice  she  could  command,  "  I 


REDWOOD.  233 

thank  you  for  your  assistance  ;  I  must  proceed  now — Deborah 
waits  for  me." 

"  For  heaven's  sake  !"  he  replied,  "  let  her  wait — I  cannot, 
I  will  not  part  with  you,  till  I  have  laid  open  my  heart  to 
you." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,  I  already  have  heard  from  Mr.  Red- 
wood what  you  would  say,"  replied  Ellen,  confused,  and 
shrinking  from  the  communication,  which  her  conversation 
with  Mr.  Redwood  the  preceding  evening  led  her  to  anticipate. 

"  From  Mr.  Redwood  ?"  exclaimed  Westall,  "  impossible  ! 
has  he  then  read  my  soul  ?" 

"  Not  he,  but  his  daughter,"  answered  Ellen. 

"  His  daughter  !"  reiterated  Westall,  and  was  proceeding 
to  entreat  Ellen  to  explain  herself,  when  they  were  both 
startled  by  a  hoarse  and  impatient  call  from  Deborah,  who  was 
evidently  drawing  near  to  them  with  rapid  strides. 

"  Ellen  !"  she  screamed,  "  Ellen  Bruce,  you'll  founder  the 
horse  ;  drive  out  of  the  brook,  girl,  if  he  has  not  drank  it  dry 
already.1' 

The  lovers  were  too  much  confounded  to  make  any  reply, 
and  Deborah,  apprehending  some  fatal  disaster  to  Ellen, 
doubled  her  speed,  and  darting  into  the  path  that  led  to  the 
watering  place,  quickly  arrived  in  full  view  of  the  objects  of 
her  search  and  alarm.  There  is,  to  the  best-natured,  some- 
thing irresistibly  provoking  in  the  apparent  tranquillity  of 
those  who  have  produced  within  them  all  the  tumult  of  anxiety. 
Deborah,  at  a  single  glance,  ascertained  the  safety  of  Ellen, 
and  of  the  horse,  and  approaching  the  latter,  she  patted  him, 
saying,  "  I  think  you  have  the  most  sense  of  the  three  ;  if  you 
had  not  been  dumb,  poor  beast,  you  would  not  have  let  me  run 
the  breath  out  of  my  body  without  answering  me  a  word." 

Charles  Westall,  though  his  mind  was  on  other  thoughts 


234  REDWOOD. 

intent,  could  not  but  smile  at  the  indirect  reproach  of  Debby, 
which  their  truly  lover-like  forgetfulness  of  her  and  of  every 
thing  else  so  justly  merited.  "  Forgive  me,  Miss  Deborah," 
he  said,  springing  from  the  chaise ;  "  your  horse  was  restive, 
and  I  took  your  seat  to  aid  Miss  Bruce,  who  was  quite  unequal 
to  managing  him." 

*  You  are  a  great  manager,  truly,"  replied  Deborah,  half 
smiling  and  half  vexed  ;  "  the  beast  seems  as  quiet  now  as 
you  could  wish  him.  Is  it  your  will  and  pleasure,  Miss  Ellen, 
to  proceed  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Ellen. 

"  Well,  come,  Mr.  Westall,"  continued  Deborah,  whose  heat 
of  body  and  mind  had  already  subsided,  "  we  won't  part  in 
anger — young  folks  must  be  young  folks.  Farewell,  and  a 
long  and  happy  life  to  you." 

"  Stay  one  moment,  Miss  Deborah,  I  have  a  favor  to  beg — 
I  have  something  to  say  to  Miss  Bruce.  Miss  Bruce,"  he 
added,  turning  to  Ellen,  "  I  entreat  you  to  grant  me  a  few 
moments — it  may  the  last  favor  I  shall  ever  ask  of  you — Miss 
Deborah  will  drive  slowly  up  tb,e  hill — the  path  is  shaded  from 
the  morning  sun — you  will  not  find  the  walk  unpleasant — 

"  You  forget,  young  man,"  interposed  Debby,  "  which  way 
the  sun  shines  this  morning  ;  when  I  came  down  the  road,  it 
was  hot  enough  to  boil  all  the  blood  in  my  veins — " 

"  Ellen,"  continued  Westall,  unheeding  in  his  eagerness 
Deborah's  cross-cut,  "  do  not — do  not  deny  me  this  favor.'1 

"  Why,  Ellen,"  said  Debby,  "  what  ails  you,  girl — why 
should  you  deny  it  ?" 

This  was  too  direct  a  question  to  be  answered  in  any  way 
but  by  compliance.  Some  gleams  of  light  had  flashed  athwart 
Ellen's  mind  that  rendered  her  lesfe  reluctant  than  she  had 
been  at  the  onset,  to  listen  to  a  communication  from  Westall. 


REDWOOD.  235 

She  suffered  him  to  hand  her  out  of  the  chaise ;  and  Deborah, 
assuming  the  reins,  and  setting  off  the  horse  '•  en  connoisseur," 
said  she  had  the  advantage  now,  for  if  they  forgot  her,  she 
could  ride  instead  of  walking  back. 

The  moments  were  too  few  and  precious  to  be  wasted  in 
circumlocution.  Westall,  after  saying  that  he  was  sure  there 
was  some  misunderstanding — Caroline  Redwood  was  the  last 
person  in  the  world  to  whom  he  should  confide  any  sentiment 
that  interested  him,  proceeded  to  make  a  frank  declaration  of 
the  unqualified  affection  which  Ellen  had  inspired.  When  he 
paused  Ellen  made  no  reply  ;  and  he  proceeded,  while  he  urged 
his  suit,  to  say,  with  the  consistency  usual  on  such  occasions, 
that  '  he  knew  he  had  no  right  to  expect  a  return — that  her 
abrupt  departure  alone  could,  and  that  must,  justify  his  ob- 
truding on  her  his  feelings  and  his  hopes,  after  so  brief  an 
acquaintance.' 

Ellen  was  all  simplicity  and  truth,  and  in  other  circum- 
stances she  would  not — she  could  not  have  withheld  from 
Westall  the  confession  that  would  have  been  to  him  heaven  to 
hear.  She  had  not  a  particle  of  coquetry,  and  she  would  not 
have  delayed  the  confession  for  a  moment  for  the  pleasure  of 
feeling  her  power.  Various  feelings  struggled  for  mastery  in 
her  bosom — first,  and  perhaps  ruling  every  other,  was  the  de- 
lightful consciousness  of  possessing  Westall's  affections ;  then 
came  the  thought  of  the  mystery  that  hung  over  her  parentage 
— it  had  never  before  inflicted  such  an  exquisite  pang  as  at 
this  moment ;  and  last,  and  most  painful,  was  the  remembrance 
of  Mrs.  Westall's  unkind  siispicions,  and  of  the  malicious  inter- 
pretation Caroline  Redwood  had  given  to  her  actions.  While 
she  hesitated  in  what  terms  to  reply,  Westall  said,  "  There  is 
then,  Ellen,  no  feeling  in  your  heart  that  pleads  for  my  rash- 
ness?" 


236  REDWOOD. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  rashness,  after  so  brief  an  acquaintance,  to 
commit  your  happiness" — 

"  Oh,  Ellen,"  interrupted  Westall,  "  I  meant  rather  pre- 
sumption than  rashness." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  let  us  both  forget  it,"  replied  Ellen,  in  a 
tone  of  affected  calmness,  that  would  have  indicated  repressed 
emc/tion  to  a  cooler  observer  than  Westall :  "  It  is  time  that 
we  should  part,  and  we  part  friends nothing  more." 

"  Have  you  not,  then,  Ellen,  a  spark  of  kindness  for  me, 
which  years  of  the  most  devoted  affection  and  service  might 
kindle?  Is  there  not  the  slightest  foundation  on  which  I 
might  rest  a  hope  for  the  future  ?" 

Ellen,  in  a  broken  voice,  alluded  to  the  possibility  that  her 
name  was  a  dishonored  one — "  a  possibility,"  she  said.  "  which 
ought  to  set  an  impassable  barrier  to  her  affections." 

Westall  protested  and  entreated.  "  If,:>  he  said,  "  the  worst 
she  could  apprehend  should  prove  true,  it  should  be  the  busi- 
ness, the  happiness  of  his  life  to  make  her  forget  it." 

Ellen  felt  that  her  scruples  were  yielding  to  the  impetuous 
feeling  of  her  lover.  Who  can  resist  the  pleadings  of  tender- 
ness when  they  coincide  with  the  secret,  the  strongest,  though 
the  resisted  inclinations  of  the  heart  ?  She  was  silent  for  some 
time,  and  when  she  did  speak,  her  voice  was  faltering,  and  her 
opposition  such  as  a  lover  might  hope  to  overcome.  Westall's 
hopes  were  reanimated,  and  he  pressed  his  suit  more  eagerly 
than  ever.  "  At  least,"  he  said,  "  Ellen,  delay  this  journey  one 
day ;  do  not  now  make  an  irrevocable  decision ;  return  to 
Eton ;  let  my  mother  join  her  entreaties  to  mine?" 

The  thought  of  Westall's  mother  reinvigo rated  Ellen's 
dying  resolution.  "  Urge  me  no  farther,  Mr.  Westall." 
said  she,  "  I  have  not  been  so  "happy  as  to  obtain  your 
mother's  esteem ;  and  were  every  other  obstacle  removed, 


REDWOOD.  237 

I  never  would  obtrude  myself  on  her  un desired  ;  no,  nor  un- 
solicited." 

"  My  mother,  Ellen  !" — But  the  assurance  of  his  mother's 
favor,  which  he  was  about  instinctively  to  pronounce,  was 
checked  by  the  consciousness  of  the  real  state  of  the  case — 
"  my  mother,  Ellen,"  he  continued,  in  a  subdued  tone,  "  has 
been  dazzled  by  gilded  dreams  long  indulged ;  but  she  is  kind, 
affectionate,  and  will,  I  am  certain,  be  easily  reconciled  to  any 
step  on  which  she  knows  my  happiness  depends." 

"  It  would  not,"  replied  Ellen,  "  be  very  consolatory  to  me 
if  she  should  become  reconciled  to  an  inevitable  evil.  I  have 
already  listened  too  long,"  she  added,  and  casting  her  eye  to- 
wards Deborah,  who  had  halted  under  the  broad  shadow  of  an 
elm-tree  on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  she  hurried  forward. 

"  Can  you,"  said  Westall,  "  when  you  see  how  you  afflict 
me,  thus  hasten  from  me  without  a  regret  ?" 

Ellen  could  not  trust  her  voice  to  answer ;  but  when  she 
had  reached  the  chaise,  she  turned  and  gave  him  her  hand :  her 
eloquent  face  (not  governed  by  the  law  she  had  imposed  on  her 
tongue)  expressed  any  thing  but  insensibility.  "  God  reward 
you,"  she  said,  "for  your  generous  purpose — we  must  now  part:" 

"  To  meet  again,"  replied  Westall,  while  he  fervently  kissed 
the  hand  she  had  extended  to  him,  "  as  surely  as  there  is  truth 
in  heaven." 

Ellen  sunk  back  into  her  seat  and  hid  her  face  with  her 
handkerchief;  while  honest  Debby,  heartily  sympathizing  in  the 
evident  affliction  of  the  lovers,  said  in  a  whining  voice,  that 
contrasted  ludicrously  enough  with  her  customary  harsh  tone 
— "  Good-by  to  you,  Mr.  Westall,  good-by  to  you,  sir ;  it  is 
hard  parting,  but  keep  a  good  heart ;  we  shall  all  three  meet 
again  in  the  Lord's  own  time"  After  having  uttered  this 
consolatory  expression  of  her  trust  in  Providence,  she  gave  the 


238  REDWOOD. 

whip  to  her  steed,  and  set  off  with  a  speed  that  promised  to 
make  up  for  lost  time.  After  driving  a  few  yards  she  stopped 
again,  and  calling  to  Westall,  who  was  standing  as  if  riveted 
to  the  spot  on  which  they  had  left  him,  she  threw  out  Mr.  Iled- 
wood's  packet,  saying,/  These  with  all  care  and  speed  to  Squire 
Redwood" — then  kindly  nodding,  she  drove  on. 

Deborah  exercised  on  this  occasion  that  discretion,  result- 
ing from  good  sense  and  good  feeling,  which,  in  all  its  modifi- 
cations, still  preserves  the  convenient  designation  of  tact :  she 
left  Ellen  to  the  operation  of  her  feelings  without  molesting 
her  with  a  remark  or  inquiry.  Ellen  resigned  herself  for  a 
while  to  emotions  the  more  violent  for  having  been  repressed. 
The  same  fountain  had  to  her  sent  forth  sweet  and  bitter  wa- 
ters. If  the  uncertainty  of  her  fate,  and  the  anguish  of  part- 
ing with  Westall,  were  evils  nearly  intolerable,  there  was  a 
heart-cheering  consciousness  of  the  treasure  she  had  acquired 
in  his  affections — there  was  the  sweetest  consolation  in  the 
thought  that  there  was  one  who  felt  with  her  and  for  her  ;  and 
the  recollection  of  Westall's  last  words  was  like  the  bright 
gleam  along  the  western  horizon,  that  smiling  in  triumph  at 
the  dark  overhanging  clouds,  speaks  a  sure  promise  of  a  fair 
coming  day. 

As  for  Westall,  after  the  few  first  moments  of  absolute 
despair,  he  began  to  think  the  case  not  quite  desperate — and 
though  Ellen  had  not  spoken  a  word  of  encouragement,  neither 
had  she  said  or  intimated  that  there  existed  in  her  feelings 
any  obstacle  to  his  wishes — there  were  certain  tones  and  ex- 
pressions of  the  face,  which  are  the  universal  language  of  ten- 
derness, that  he  had  noticed,  and  which  he  now  laid  up  in  his 
memory  and  cherished  there,  as  the  faithful  fix  their  eyes  on 
the  twilight  of  prophecy.  , 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  Charles  Westall  joined  the 


REDWOOD.  239 

circle  at  Mr.  Lenox's,  whither  his  mother  had  already  gone. 
He  perceived  that  the  tone  of  the  ladies'  spirits  was  raised  (as 
was  indeed  too  plain)  by  Ellen's  departure. 

Westall  delivered  to  Mr.  Redwood  the  packet  with  which 
he  had  been  intrusted.  Mr.  Redwood  received  it  with  evident 
surprise,  and  said,  "  You  have  then  seen  Miss  Bruce  this  morn- 
ing?" All  eyes  were  now  fixed  on  Westall,  who,  coloring 
deeply,  replied,  "  that  he  had  met  her  accidentally  during  his 
morning  ride." 

"  Miss  Bruce  is  quite  a  character,"  said  Caroline  :  "  every 
thing  connected  with  her  is  involved  in  an  interesting  veil  of 
mystery — par  exemple — your  son,  Mrs.  Westall,  cannot  speak 
of  meeting  her  even  accidentally,  without  the  most  portentous 
blushes  ;  and  there  is  my  dear  father — the  very  soul  of  frank- 
ness— thrusting  into  his  pocket  a  bundle  of  private  communi- 
cations received  from  this  same  fair  one.  Upon  my  word,  it  is 
a  pity  she  had  not  flourished  at  a  court ;  she  would  have  made 
a  pretty  intriguante,  instead  of  resembling  the  man  your  favor- 
ite Moliere  describes,  papa,  when  he  says, 

"  De  la  moindre  vdtille  il  fait  une  merveille, 
Et  jusques  au  bon  jour,  il  dit  tout  a  Poreille."* 

Mr.  Redwood  darted  an  angry  look  on  his  daughter,  and 
changing  his  purpose,  he  tore  off  the  envelope**and  threw  the 
bank  notes  on  the  table,  saying  at  the  same  time,  "  Behold  the 
solution  of  the  mystery  that  provokes  your  wit,  Caroline.  I 
offered  Ellen  Bruce  a  little  of  that  which  gives  us  all  our 
boasted  superiority  to  her,  and  she  declined  receiving  it " — 


*  "  He  swells  ewsh  trifle  to  a  wonder's  height, 

And  takes  his  friend  aside  to  say  '  good  night.' " 


' 


240  REDWOOD. 

"  With  the  advice  and  consent  of  counsel,  no  doubt,"  an- 
swered Caroline,  glancing  her  eye  at  Charles  "Westall. 

"  Wrath  is  cruel,  and  anger  is  outrageous,  but  who  is  able 
to  stand  before  envy  ?" — rose  to  Westall's  lips  ;  he  had  the 
grace,  however,  to  suppress  it,  and  to  say  in  a  calm  tone,  "  Miss 
Bruce  is  her  own  best  counsellor." 

"  Doubtless,"  replied  Caroline,  "  Miss  Bruce  is  wondrous 
wise  ;  but  she  is  not  the  first  divinity  who  has  admitted  mor- 
tals to  her  deliberations. — What  say  you,  Mrs.  Westall  ?  Does 
not  your  son  look  guilty  of  aiding  and  abetting  this  most  dig- 
nified refusal  of  my  father's  extraordinary  patronage  ?" 

"  If  I  look  guilty  of  aught,"  said  Westall,  "  but  the  invol- 
untary fault  of  listening  to  an  implication  against  Miss  Bruce, 
my  face  does  me  great  injustice." 

"  Really,  Caroline,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Westall,  in  the  hope 
of  averting  observation  from  her  son,  and  perceiving  the  neces- 
sity of  turning  Miss  Redwood  from  her  pursuit,  "  your  raillery 
is  quite  too  much  for  Charles  this  morning  :  I  must  interpose 
my  maternal  shield.  What  say  you  to  a  truce  and  a  ride  ?" 

"  A  truce,  certainly  ;  for  I  am  too  generous  to  fight  with 
one  hors  du  combat,  and  a  ride  with  all  my  heart."  answered 
Caroline,  "  provided  Mr.  Westall  is  not  fatigued  by  his  acci- 
dental morning  escort — excursion,  I  mean." 

Mr.  "NVesJ^ll.  with  more  gravity  than  gallantry,  and  in  spite 
of  his  mod^s  <Urtreating  looks,  said  "  that  he  must  decline 
the  pleasure  offered  him.  to  fulfil  an  engagement  in  the  village" 
— and  on  this  pretext  he  left  the  party  to  pursue  their  design, 
while  he  gave  the  rein  to  his  own  meditations. 


REDWOOD.  241 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Who  made  the  heart,  'tis  he  alone 

Decidedly  can  try  us  ; 
He  knows  each  chord — its  various  tone, 

Each  spring — its  various  bias." 

* 

BTTHNS. 

WE  must  now  leave  the  party  at  Eton,  which  we  hope  4hat  our 
readers  will  think  has  lost  its  chief  interest  since  the  departure 
of  our  heroine,  and  we  shall  exempt  them  from  attending  her 
in  her  wearisome  progress,  since  it  was  diversified  by  no  dan- 
ger, real  or  imaginary,  to  recall  their  attention  to  the  sorrows 
of  the  simple,  amiable  little  fanatic.  Emily  Allen. 

She  returned  to  her  monastic  seclusion  with  her  aunt,  or 
as  she  called  her  (according  to  the  fashion  Of  "  the  Believers," 
who  acknowledge  none  but  primitive  titles  and^dations.)  her 
'  elder  sister,'  more  from  a  habit  of  passive,  ofWuence,  than 
from  any  distaste  to  the  world.  Our  readers  may  recollect, 
that  at  parting  with  James  Lenox  she  had  received  from  him  a 
slip  of  paper,  and  succeeded  in  hiding  it  in  her  bosom.  He  had 
written  on  it  a  strong  expression  of  his  lovejfand  an  entreaty 
that  she  would  abandon  her  false  religion.  From  the  moment 
she  placed  it  in  her  bosom,  her  heart  fluttered  and  struggled 
as  an  imprisoned  bird  when  her  mate  approaches  her  cago. 
11 


242  REDWOOD. 

She  regarded  it  as  a  temptation,  but  had  no  strength,  hardly  a 
wish,  to  resist  it.  All  her  solitary  moments  (they  were  rare 
and  brief)  were  devoted  to  reading  this  note  over  and  over 
again.  She  felt  herself  immured  in  a  dungeon,  and  from  this, 
the  only  gleam  of  lig'ht,  she  could  not  for  a  moment  turn  her 
thoughts. 

The  uniform  habits  and  monotonous  occupations  of  this 
singular  community,  have  a'  strong  tendency  to  check  every 
irregular  feeling,  and  to  intercept  every  vagrant  desire.  But 
in  vain  did  Emily  try  their  sedative  influence.  She  was  one 
of  the  highest,  and  even  there,  where  few  distinctions  obtain, 
most  privileged  order,  called,  par  excellence,  '  the  church.' 
Susan's  gifts  had  advanced  her  to  the  lead,  and  Emily's  graces 
were  looked  upon  by  the  fraternity  as  the  herald  blossoms  of 
like  precious  fruit.  But  since  her  return  from  her  fatal  visit 
to  the  '^world's  people,"  she  had  become  sib.  object  of  intense 
anxiety  to  Susan,  and  of  solicitude  or  distrust  to  the  rest  of 
the  society.  Susan  had  no  suspicion  of  the  real  cause  of  her 
discontent ;  she  imputed  it  to  the  workings  of'  her  natural 
affections,  the  dying  sparks  of  which,,  not  quite  extinguished  by 
grace,  had  been  rekindled  by  her  late  visit  to  her  kindred.. 

•:  Little  did  this  stern  enthusiast  imagine,  as  she  watched 
over  her  young  disciple  with  maternal  tenderness,  how  much 
there  was  ofi^fctural  and  original  feeling  in  her  own  affection 
for  her — howmuch  stronger  than  the  tie  to  the  community  was 
the  tie  of  blood.  She  saw  the  bright  color,  the  beautiful  sig- 
nal of  youth  and  health,  fading  day  by  day  from  her  cheeks, 
till  her  face  became  almost  as  white  as  the  snowy  cap  border 
that  fringed  it.  She  saw  her  take  her  accustomed  place  at  the 
formal  meal,  but  she  noticed  that  her  food  was  often  untasted, 
and  never  relished.-  She  observed  her  slow  step  and  abstracted 
look,  as  she  passed  over  the  broad  flag-stones  to  the  offices  to 


REDWOOD.  243 

.perform  her  dully  tasks,  and  that  though  she  went  through 
them  with  fidelity,  her  trembling  hands  and  frequent  sighs 
evinced  that  her  heart  and  strength  were  gone.  She  uniformly 
appeared  with  the  sisters  that  thronged  to  the  evening  worship, 
and  went  forth  with  them  to  '  labor  itf  the  dance,'  but  her 
movements  were  heavy  and  mechanical ;  and  it  was  too  plain, 
even  to  the  lenient  judgment  of  Susan,  that  the  spirit  was 
not  there. 

The  kind-hearted  old  women,  who  thought  she  was  falling 
into  a  weakly  way,  consulted  with  Susan  as  to  the  nature  of 
her  complaints.  Susan  humored  their  conjectures,  and  allowed 
them  to  believe  they  had  detected  some  latent  malady.  They 
prepared  their  simples,  and  Susan  permitted  Emily  to  swallow 
them,  because  she  knew  them  to  be  innocent,  and  that  they 
possessed  that  best  recommendation  of  any  drug,  viz.  that '  if 
it  does  no  good  it  can  do  no  harm.' 

Some  were  of  opinion  that  she  had  an  incipient  consump- 
tion, some  that  it  was  only  a  '  drying  of  the  lungs,'  some  pro- 
nounced it  an  { inward  rheumatism,'  while  others  sagaciously 
intimated  that  it  might  be  a  '  palsy  of  the  heart.'  In  short,  the 
wise  sisters  discovered  many  diseases  that  have  not  yet  a  place 
in  the  nomenclature  of  the  learned  faculty ;  and  poor  Emily, 
without  a  word  of  remonstrance  or  complaint,  listened  to  their 
skilful  suggestions,  and  tried  all  their  remedies,  till  their  mate- 
ria  medica  was  exhausted,  without  effect^  She  took  bitters  fast- 
ing and  feasting — she  swallowed  syrup*  nine  days,'  and  '  three 
days,'  and  '  every  other  day' — she  took  conserves,  and  '  health 
waters,'  and  '  life  waters,'  and  every  other  water  that  '  with  a 
blessing  always  cures' — but  still  she  had  the  same  deadly  pale- 
ness—the same  sunken  eye — the  same  trembling  at  the  heart 
— and  all  the  symptoms  of  a  mysterious  disease,  which  the  most 
sagacious  deemed  nothing  short  of  a  '  healing  gift'  could  cure. 


244  REDWOOD. 

The  elder  brethren,  ever  strict  in  their  watch  over  the  young 
converts,  now  became  alarmed  in  their  turn.  They  held  fre- 
quent and  long  consultations,  at  which  Reuben  Harrington 
had  a  gift  to  preside.  Whether  these  veterans  derived  their 
light  from  the  experience  of  similar  conflicts  cannot  be  ascer- 
tained ;  but  certain  is  it  that  they  soon  came  to  the  decision 
that  Emily's  disease  was  a  moral  one;  and  to  Reuben  was 
assigned  the  task  of  stilling  her  natural  yearnings  after  the 
world,  and  of  bringing  back  her  wandering  aifections  to  the 
fold — to  the  wolf  was  committed  the  guardianship  of  the 
lamb.  £  * 

Reuben  was  aware  that  nothing  could  be  effected  without 
the  consent  and  concurrent  of  Susan  ;  and  to  obtain  that  to- 
the  mode  of  operation  which  he  had  proposed  to  himself,  he 
knew  was  no  easy  matter,  now  that  her  natural  sagacity  was 
stimulated  by  strong  affection  and  deep  anxiety. 

After  the  brethren  had  closed  their  deliberations,  Reuben 
proposed  calling  the  elder  sister  to  the  conference,  to  advise 
with  her  as  to  the  best  means  of  pursuing  their  righteous  end. 
Susan  came  at  his  bidding;  but  she  was  cautious  and  reserved 
in  her  communications,  till  one  of  the  brethren  roused  her,  by 
saying,  (after  a  prolonged  groan.)  "  It  is  evident  the  girl  is 
given  over  to  the  sifting  of  Satan," — Susan  raised  her  eye^ 
and  fixed  them  on  the  speaker — ':and."  he  continued,  "accord- 
ing to  my  light,  she  should  stand  before  the  congregation  of 
the  people  on  the  coming  Lord's  day,  and,  in  the  presence  of 
the  chosen  vessels,  receive  an  open  rebuke  for  sin." 

"What  sin,  Obadiah?"  inquired  Susan,  with  a  trembling 
voice. 

"  Sin  of  the  heart — doth  not  all  sin  proceed  from  the  heart. 
woman  ?"  i 

"  Verily  it  doth,  Obadiah — but  who  hath  seen  the  sin  pro- 


REDWOOD.  245 

ceeding  from  We  heart  of  this  afflicted  child  ? — and  who  hath 
given  you  authority  to  discern  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the 
heart  ? — wouk^you  treat  the  young  lambs  like  the  fat  calves 
of  the  stall  ?" 

"  Nay,  sister,  this  is  unprofitable,"  interposed  Reuben.  "  It 
is  too  true  that  the  fine  gold  has  become  dim,  and  we  seek  for 
a  gift  to  restore  its  brightness.  Let  us  each  labor  for  it  in  the 
evening  worship,  and  he  or  she  to  whom  it  may  be  given  shall 
forthwith  undertake  the  cure  of  this  precious  soul." 

Susan  did  not  venture  to  withhold  her  assent  to  this  pro- 
position, regarded  as  it  evidently  was  by  the  brethren  as  a 
direct  inspiration,  but  her  spirit  still  hovered  over  the  child  of 
her  affection  as  a  bird  fluttereth  over  her  nest.  "  My  light  has 
been."  she  said,  "  to  leave  Emily  to  the  work  of  time  and  grace 
— but  it  may  be  that  seeking,  brethren,  ye  may  find  a  quicker 
cure — it  is  a  duty  to  remember  that  in  months  past  the  testi- 
mony of  the  child's  life  against  all  sin  has  been  very  clear. 
The  enemy  has  taken  advantage  of  her  late  visit  to  her  kin- 
dred, and  has  carried  her  back  to  the  path  of  natural  affection, 
out  of  which  she  had  travelled  far ;  and  seeing  nature  reviving, 
and  grace  sleeping,  he  hath  taken  that  moment  to  bind  her 
again  with  carnal  bonds." 

"  You  have  ever  been  gifted,  sister,"  replied  Reuben,  "  with 
that  hidden  wisdom  that  quickly  discerneth.  It  may  be  you 
see  the  true  evil ;  but  even  now  I  can  comfort  you  with  a  pro- 
phecy that  the  young  woman  will  awake  as  from  a  sleep,  and 
break  these  carnal  bonds  like  thread — her  conflict  is  sore,  but 
great  will  be  her  victory — for  I  predict  of  her  as  Christian 
Love,  the  holy  martyr  of  Cromwell's  time,  predicted  of  our 
mother  Anne,  that  this  our  young  sister  shall  yet  shine  out, 
'  a  bright  star,  whose  light  and  power  shall  make  the  heavens 
to  quake  and  knock  under.' " 


246  REDWOOD. 

"Amen!"  exclaimed  Susan,  devoutly  clasjpng  her  hands; 
and  "  Amen  !"  responded  all?the  veteran  councillors  in  one 
voice,  animated  by  that  vaunted  "  spontaneous  spirit  of  union 
which  flows  through  the  whole  body" — when  governed  by  a 
master-spirit. 

Susan,  on  issuing  from  the  brethren's  apartment,  passed 
through  a  narrow  passage  to  the  common  entry  from  whence  all 
the  passages  diverge,  and  in  the  centre  of  which  is  placed  a 
large  clock,  the  work  of  one  of  the  ingenious  brethren,  Emily 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  her  face  so  much  averted  from 
Susan,  that  she  did  not  notice  her  approach, — her  footsteps  she 
could  not  hear,  for  it  is  the  law  of  the  society,  which  we  strongly 
recommend  to  the  world's-folk,  that  every  one  shall  tread  softly, 
and  shall  shut  the  doors  with  the  least  possible  sound — to  these 
laws  such  due  observance  is  paid,  that  a  stranger,  ignorant  of 
their  habits,  would  imagine  their  houses  were  untenanted.  Em- 
ily had  paused  at  the  staircase  from  extreme  weakness ;  the  loud 
ticking  of  the  clock  had  arrested  her  attention ;  this  sound, 
always  the  same,  seems  like  the  natural  voice  of  this  monoto- 
nous solitude.  "  Oh,"  said  Emily,  unconsciously  uttering 
audibly  her  thoughts,  "  to  what  purpose  is  time  measured  here  ? 
there  is  no  pleasure  to  come — there  is  none  past  that  I  dare 
to  remember." 

"  Do  you  ask  to  what  purpose  ?"  said  Susan,  in  a  voice  of 
unwonted  austerity  that  startled  Emily,  "  and  are  you  then  so 
far  relapsed  into  nature  ! — Oh,  have  you  already  forgotten 
when  every  stroke  of  that  clock  was  as  a  holy  monitor  to  you, 
arousing  you  to  redeem  the  time  ? — have  you  forgotten,  Emily, 
when  you  wrestled  with  vain  thoughts,  and  sinful  thoughts,  and 
overcame  them  ? — have  you  forgotten,  or  do  you  tremble  to  re- 
member, when  the  stroke  of  every^  hour  carried  with  it  the 
record  of  your  innocence?" 


REDWOOD.  ,  j>47 

"  Oh,  spare  me,  spare  me  !"  interrupted  the  poor  girl,  grasp- 
ing the  elder  sister's  arm,  and  clinging  to  it,  "  I  am  sick — very 
sick." 

"  Susan's  heart  melted  within  her  at  this  appeal,  and  hear- 
ing the  Brethren  approaching,  she  instinctively  drew,  or  rather 
carried  Emily  away  from  their  observation,  to  her  own  apart- 
ment, the  door  of  which  she  closed,  and  turned  a  button  that 
secured  her  from  intrusion.  She  seated  herself,  and  would 
have  placed  Emily  beside  her,  but  she,  as  if  desperate  now  the 
veil  had  fallen,  sunk  into"  Susan's  lap,  and  folding  her  arms 
arotind  her,  sobbed  on  her  bosom. 

This  was  the  language  of  nature ;  and  the  elder  sister  was 
surprised  into  what  she  deemed  an  amazing  sin.  She  wept  too, 
freely  and  audibly,  but 

"  When  she  had  wrestled  down 
Feelings  her  nature  strove  to  own," 

and  could  command  her  voice,  she  said,  "  I  thought  all  these 
natural  affections  were  rooted  out — and  they  were,  Emily,  but 
since  you  came  among  us  the  enemy  hath  sown  tares  among 
the  wheat.  Poor  child  !  I  see  where  your  temptation  lies — the 
world — the  world  calls  you ;  but  be  not  discouraged,  if  you 
overcome  the  temptation  you  will  be  stronger  than  one  that 
hath  never  been  tempted.  This  is  not  the  first  time  that  the 
serpent  has  entered  our  garden.  Many  a  time  after  I  joined 
myself  to  the  people,  my  soul  thirsted  after  the  world,  tas  the 
hart  panteth  for  the  water-courses. 

'•  Emily,  I  have  never  told  you  my  trials,  for  I  thought  the 
world  was  as  a  strange  country  to  you ;  now  you  shall  know 
them  all, — and  the  Lord  grant  they  may  prove  a  beacon  to 
you  !" 

Susan  paused  for  a  few  moments,  to  nerve  her  mind  to  the 


248  •  •  REDWOOD. 

recollection  and  detail  of  long  past  sorrows ;  and  then  began 
in  a  calm  subdued  tone,  while  Emily  continued  with  her  face 
hidden  on  her  bosom,  sobbing  at  intervals  like  a  child  that  can- 
not forget  its  griefs. 

"  Emily,  I  wag  the  youngest  of  your  grandmother's  seven 
children.  My  natural  father  was  a  good  man,  living  up  to  the 
light  he  had,  till  our  mother  Anne,  having  had  a  safe  path  made 
for  her  through  the  waters,  came  a  swift  witness  to  this  new 
world,  which  being,  as  it  were,  born  out  of  due  time,  was  ac- 
counted worthy  of  her  ministry,  having  been,  under  Providence, 
discovered  andcivilized  to  become  the  inheritance  of  the  TOiev- 
ers.  My  father,  as  you  have  often  heard,  was  one  of  the  first 
fruits  of  the  work :  he  and  my  natural  brothers  and  sisters 
•were  among  the  first  that  joined  the  people,  and  set  out  for  the 
Lord.  I  was  left  alone  with  your  grandmother,  and  she  in 
possession  of  all  her  husband's  property — a  handsome  farm  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  Emily,  I  had  wicked  thoughts 
then.  I  believed  my  family  were  led  away  by  .a  deceiver,  and 
an  antichrist.  I  listened  eagerly  to  the  stories  of  those  that 
reviled  our  mother's  name.  Some  said  that  she  and  her  elders 
were  the  offscourings- of  the  English  jails  ;  others,  seeing  that 
her  work  far  transcended  natural  power,  accused  her  of  witch- 
craft ;  some  insisted  that  she  was  a  man  in  woman's  apparel ; 
and  although  she  predicted  the  independence  of  this  favored 
land,  and  could  not  act  against  her  own  testimony,  there  were 
some  who  charged  her  with  treasonable  practices,  and  threw 
her  into  jail.  I  was  willing  to  believe  all  that  the  voice  of  the 
slanderer  uttered  ;  and  when  my  father  came  to  take  me  to  her, 
in  obedience  to  him  I  went,  but  blinded  by  my  prepossessions. 
It  was  then  that  mother  and  AVilliam  Lee  and  our  ancients 
were  gathering  the  believers  at  Xiskeyuna,  and  (here  your 
grandfather  carried  inc. 


REDWOOD.  249 

"  We  arrived  at  the  close  of  a  November  day ; — the  sun 
had  just  set  in  clouds — the  sky  was  dark  and  foreboding.  I 
had  been  chilled  and  wearied  with  our  long  ride  and  fasting  ; 
but  when  we  turned  from  the  high  road  into  a  woody  path,  and 
my  father  pointing  to  a  smoke  that  curled  upward  from  a  deep 
wood,  said,  '  there  dwells  the  bright  star,'  I  forgot  all  the 
weakness  and  the  wants  of  the  flesh.  The  adversary  put 
forth  all  his  strength  to  secure  his  dominion  in  my  weak  and 
troubled  mind ; — a  trembling  seized  me — it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  was  hurried  on  to  a  precipice,  and  I  had  no  power  to  resist 
the  cruel  force  that  pressed  me  onward.  I  tried  to  pray,  but 
my  spirit  died  away  within  me.  The  low  murmurs  of  the  little 
stream  along  which  we  rode — the  wind  that  sighed  through 
the  naked  branches  of  the  trees — the  rustling  of  the  fallen 
leaves  over  which  we  passed,  all  seemed  to  speak  a  voice  of 
warning  to  my  fearful  spirit. 

"  I  was  always  a  feeling  and  a  thoughtful  girl,  Emily,  and 
it  had  long  been  borne  in  upon  my  mind  that  great  things 
awaited  me :  still  I  hated  the  way  that  was  opened,  and  joy- 
fully would  I  have  turned  my  back  upon  the  light  that  was 
ready  to  dawn  on  me. 

"  As  we  approached  the  house  the  believers  were  closing 
the  afternoon  worship ;  I  caught  the  sound  of  the  evening 
hymn  :  it  was  so  ordered,  that  I  did  not  then,  nor  till  long 
after,  witness  the  going  forth  in  the  dance.  My  faith  was  not 
yet  strong  enough  for  it,  and  for  a  long  time,  the  Lord  forgive 
me  !  it  was  a  cross  to  me. 

"  When  we  were  about  to  enter  the  door,  my  father  per- 
ceived that  my  limbs  were  sinking  under  me,  and  he  led,  or 
rather  dragged  me  into  the  room.  Oh  Emily,  I  shall  never 
forget  that  moment. 

"  The  apartment,  though  in  a  log  house,  was  a  large  one, 
11* 


250  REDWOOD. 

the  brethren  having  in  their  early  gathering  removed  all  the 
partitions  to  give  space  for  the  labor  worship.  There  was  a 
bright  fire  on  the  hearth  from  some  pine  knots,  but  no  other 
light  in  the  room.  The  brethren,  with  their  broad-brimmed 
hats  slouched,  and  casting  a  deep  shadow  over  their  faces,  were 
sitting  on  one)  side  of  the  room  as  is  their  custom — the  sisters 
on  the  other  ;  their  arms  were  folded,  and  their  eyes  all  cast 
down  ;  and  exhausted  by  the  evening  labor  they  were  pale  aa 
spectres.  Our  mother  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment 
alone — her  arms  also  folded  across  her  breast.  I  looked  fear- 
fully around — I  saw  my  natural  brothers  and  sisters,  as  the 
flame  burned  brightly  and  shone  upon  their  faces,  but  none  of 
them  regarded  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  come  into  an 
assembly  of  the  dead — that  I  was  in  the  midst  of  moving 
corpses — living  bodies  without  souls — to  my  foolish  sense  it 
was  awful,  Emily.  I  turned  to  beg  my  father  to  lead  me  away, 
but  he  had  quitted  my  side,  and  taken  his  place  among  the 
brethren.  My  head  grew  giddy,  and  I  thought  myself  sink- 
ing to  the  earth. 

"  At  this  moment,  mother  Anne  advanced  to  me ;  '  And  is 
this,'  she  said,  '  the  one  stray  lamb  that  I  have  so  longed  to 
get  into  the  fold  ?'  My  bonnet  had  fallen  back — she  laid  her 
hand  upon  my  head — her  hand  and  arm  were  bare,  and  white 
and  smooth  as  if  they  had  been  rounded  out  of  the  purest 
marble.  My  hair  was  dressed  after  the  fashion  of  the  world. 
'  You  must  forsake  these  vanities,  Susan,'  said  she — she  did 
not  speak  sharply,  though  she  could  sometimes  sharply  re- 
buke sin : — she  made  a  short  pause,  and  then  fixing  her 
clear  piercing  blue  eye  steadfastly  on  me,  as  if  she  pene- 
trated to  the  depths  of  my  soul,  she  added,  in  a  low  solemn 
tone,  '  Susan,  I  bear  a  message  to  you — the  Master  saith, 
"forsake  all  and  follow  me,  an'd  ye  shall  have  in  this 


REDWOOD.  251 

world  a  hundred  fold,  and  in  the  world  to  come,,  life  ever- 
lasting.' " 

"  Emily,  there  was  a  celestial  melody  in  mother's  voice  in 
the  gift  of  speaking,  and  a  weight  in  all  her  words,  and  though 
I  gave  no  outward  sign,  they  sunk  deeply  into  my  heart.  She 
said  no  more  to  me  at  that  time — she  was  never  forward  to 
speak.  In  her  looks  there  was  a  boldness  and  an  innocence 
that  seemed,  as  it  were,  like  the  truth  and  the  gentleness  of 
the  gospel  she  preached,  written  for  a  testimony  in  every  line 
of  her  face. 

"  Ah  !  she  had,"  continued  the  enthusiast,  her  eyes  kin- 
dling and  her  face  brightening,  while  her  imagination  magnified 
the  graces  of  the  leader  who  had  captivated  her  youthful  affec- 
tions.— "  Ah,  the  second  appearing  was  manifest  in  all  the 
sweet  qualities  of  woman,  and  yet,  Emily,  for  a  season  I  turned 
my  back  on  her.  I  returned  to  my  natural  mother — to  the 
world,  to — yes  it  is  fitting  you  should  know  all  my  temptations 
— to  one  to  whom  I  was  deeply  bound  in  my  affections." 

Susan  paused — and  Emily's  sobbing,  which  had  continued 
at  intervals  till  this  moment,  ceased.  She  raised  her  face,  now 
gleaming  with  faint  streaks  of  red,  from  Susan's  bosom,  and 
fixed  her  eye  on  the  speaker,  who  after  some  effort  continued  : 

"  William  Har wood  was  my  friend,  a  pleasant  lad;  we  had 
heen  mates  from  our  infancy,  and  had  loved  one  another  (lov- 
ing no  one  else),  with  that  faith  which  is  the  boast  of  the 
world's  people :  little  did  I  think,  till  the  gospel  was  opened 
to  me,  that  that  love  was  the  fruit  of  a  depraved  nature — that, 
if  I  would  not  perish  eternally,  it  must  be  plucked  off  and 
cast  from  me.  William  pleaded  for  it,  and  my  own  heart 
pleaded  more  stoutly — Oh  Emily !  you  know  not  how  the  na- 
tural man  can  talk — -and  oh,  my  innocent  child,  be  thankful ; 
you  know  not  how  the  unregenerate  heart  goes  forth  in  what 


252  REDWOOD. 

the  world  calls  lore — how  the  breath  of  the  body  and  the  life 
of  the  soul  seem  bound  up  in  the  life  and  breath  of  another  ; 
how  cheap  the  sacrifice  of  earth — yea  heaven,  to  the  idol 
seems" — 

"  Oh  stop,  stop,"  exclaimed  Emily,  falling  on  her  knees, 
and  clasping  her  hands  in  agony,  "  do  not  say  any  more  to  me. 
I  cannot  bear  it." 

"  Nay,  my  child,"  replied  Susan,  recovering  her  calm  tone, 
and  the  self-command  which  had  for  a  moment  given  way  be- 
fore the  rush  of  natural  feeling. — "  Nay,  be  quiet  and  listen, 
for  grace  obtained  the  victory.  The  conflict  lasted  for  many 
months.  I  saw  that  I  could  in  no  way  be  justified  but  by  obey- 
ing the  gospel  and  setting  out  with  the  believers.  Your  grand- 
mother hated  the  faith  then  as  she  does  now.  I  could  answer 
all  she  said,  but  when  William  told  me,  with  despairing  looks, 
that  he  should  be  a  ruined  man  if  I  forsook  him,  my  heart 
sunk  within  me.  My  flesh  consumed  on  my  bones  as  if  there 
had  been  a  curse  upon  me,  and  often,  often  between  the  setting 
and  the  rising  of  the  sun  my  eyelids  have  not  met,  and  in  the 
morning  I  could  wring  from  my  handkerchief  the  tears  that 
had  poured  from  my  eyes  like  rain  in  the  night.  But  finally 
grace  triumphed  over  nature  :  the  strong  man  was  bound,  and 
I  joined  myself  to  the  people.  It  is  now  thirty  years  since  I 
believed,  and,"  added  she,  raising  her  hands  and  eyes,  and 
speaking  with  more  energy  than  she  had  yet  spoken,  "  I  say 
the  truth  before  God,  and  lie  not :  I  have  not  repented  for  a 
moment — I  have  been  heartily  thankful  that  I  have  borne  my 
testimony — I  have  purchased  a  peace  that  cannot  be  taken 
away,  and  cheaply  purchased  it." 

"  Then  I  am  lost,"  exclaimed  Emily. 

"  Nay,  do  not  mistake  me.  child — I  mean  that  having  put 
my  hand  to  the  plough,  I  never  turned  back  ;  but  T  had  many 


REDWOOD.  253 

heavy  dragging  hours,  much  hungering  after  forsaken  joys. 
It  could  not  be  otherwise,  but  again  I  say  I  never  repented. 
You  know  already  that  when  tribulation  came,  many  fell  away. 
Our  mother  was  carried  to  prison.  My  father,  your  father,  all 
my  natural  kindred  left  her — I  alone  remained  to  abide  our 
day  of  wasteness  and  desolation." 

"  And  did  you  ever  again  see  William  Harwood  ?"  inquired 
Emily. 

"  Yea,  yea,  child,  that  was  my  ehiefest  sorrow  ;  he  never 
gave  me  up — he  would  not  believe  that  I  would  persevere  in  a  ce- 
libious  life — and  after  our  family  removed  hither  he  came  every 
month,  and  sometimes  every  week  to  see  me.  He  once  came 
into  our  worshipping  assembly,  but  the  moment  that  I  went 
forth  in  the  dance,  he  fainted  and  fell  to  the  floor.  After  that 
I  saw  him  but  seldom." 

Susan  paused,  and  Emily  asked  "  if  he  never  married  ?" 

"  Nay,"  replied  Susan. 

"  And  is  he  dead  ?"  inquired  Emily. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  child,  and  ye  shall  hear  it  all — yea  all," 
She  pressed  her  hands  on  her  forehead — "  My  head  is  giddy, 
and  these  recollections  have  set  my  heart  to  beating.  Strange  ! 
— strange  !"  She  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then, 
resuming  her  usual  deliberate  manner,  she  said,  "  William  was 
an  only,  and  an  indulged  child.  His  parents  had  never  crossed 
him  in  any  thing  ;  Snd  though  he  had  a  kind  and  tender  dis- 
position, he  could  not  brook  a  disappointment.  He  fell  into  a 
weakly  way,  and  then  he  took  to  ruinous  habits.  His  poor  old 
parents  died,  I  fear,  of  a  wounded  spirit ;  for  they  laid  his 
misfortune  sadly  to  heart.  After  their  death  his  worldly  affairs 
went  fast  to  destruction,  and  he  became  a  miserable  vagrant. 
He  would  come  here  and  sit  for  hours  on  the  door-step  ;  at 
these  times  I  kept  to  my  room,  for  I  could  do  nothing  for  him ; 


254  REDWOOD. 

and  if  he  chanced  to  see  ^me  in  his  fits  of  intoxication,  he 
would  either  upbraid  me  bitterly,  or  cry  like  a  child — both 
were  trying  to  me. 

"  It  is  ten  years  ago  the  tenth  day  of  last  January — it  had 
stormed  for  three  days,  and  the  roads  were  blocked  with  the 
drifted  snows-pit  had  been  a  cruel  cold  night — and  in  the 
morning,  a  Sabbath  morning  too,  when  we  had  risen  and  kin- 
dled a  fire,  one  of  the  brethren  opened  the"  outer  door,  and 
there  was  lying  a  poor  wretch  across  the  door-stone — frozen  to 
death — we  all  gathered  round  him — and  oh,  Emily,  child,  it 
was"—  * 

«  William  ?" 

"  Yea — yea — it  was  William  himself 

"  Oh  misery,  misery  !"  exclaimed  Emily,  with  a  burst  of 
sympathy  which  she  could  not  repress. 

"  Yea,  it  was  misery.  I  forgot  myself — forgot  all  that 
stood  about  me.  I  saw  not  his  tattered  dirty  garments,  nor 
his  bloated  face,  but  I  saw  him  as  in  the  days  of  our  youth 
and  our  love, — and  I  fell  on  his  neck  and  wept — I  could  not 
help  it — but  thanks  be  rendered,"  she  added,  raising  her  eyes, 
"  it  was  the  last  struggle  of  nature — and  it  has  been  forgiven." 

"  And  have  you  suffered  thus  ?"  asked  Emily,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause. 

"  Do  not  so  speak,  child,"  replied  Susan,  "  rather  be  grate- . 
ful  that  I  have  been  accounted  worthy  thus  to  suffer." 

Susan's  raised  feelings  did  not  permit  her  to  add  any 
thing  farther.  She  became  silent  and  abstracted  ;  and  Emily, 
exhausted  with  her  emotions,  laid  her  head  in  her  elder  sister's 
lap,  and  like  a  child  wept  herself  to  sleep. 

Susan's  narrative  had  not  precisely  the  effect  on  the  mind 
of  her  disciple  that  she  had  designejl  and  anticipated.  Emi- 
ly's excited  imagination  was  deeply  impressed  by  Harwood's 


REDWOOD.  255 

death,  and  the  instinctive  conclusion  of  her  feelings  was,  per- 
naps,  as  just  as  if  it  had  been  a  logical  deduction  from  a  pro- 
cess of  reasoning.  She  felt  that  the  faith  which  exacted  such 
sacrifices,  and  produced  such  effects,  was  stern  in  its  requisi- 
tions, and  cruel  in  its  consequences.  Her  fidelity  to  this 
strange  religion  hung,  as  it  were,  by  a  hair,  its  vibration  at  the 
mercy  of  every  passing  influence  :  unlike  Susan,  whose  strong 
feelings  being  set  one  way  by  some  powerful  impetus,  were  as 
little  liable,  as  a  tide  of  he  ocean,  to  fluctuate  from  human 
interposition. 


256  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Le  bonheur  se  compose  d'une  suite  d'actions  et  de  sensations  continu 
ellement  re'pe'uSes  et  renouvele"es  ;  simplicity  et  monotonie  voila  en  general 
ce  qui  le  forrne  et  le  constitue." — MADAME  DE  GEKLIS. 

THE  Shaker  society  at  Hancock,  in  Massachusetts,  is  one  of 
the  eldest  establishments  of  this  sect,  which  has  extended  its 
limits  far  beyond  the  anticipations  of  the  '  unbelieving  world,' 
and  now  boasts  that  its  outposts  have  advanced  to  the  frontiers 
of  civilization — to  Kentucky — Ohio — and  Indiana  ;  and  re- 
joices in  the  verification  of  the  prophecy,  "  a  little  one  shall 
become  a  thousand,  and  a  small  one  a  strong  nation." 

The  society  is  distributed  into  several  families  of  a  conve- 
nient size.*  for  domestic  arrangements,  and  the  whole  body  is 
guided  and  governed  by  '  elder  brothers  '  and  '  elder  sisters,' 
whose  '  gifts '  of  superior  wisdom,  knowledge,  or  cunning,  ob- 
tain for  them  these  titles,  and  secure  to  them  their  rights  and 
immunities.  There  are  gradations  of  rank,  or,  as  they  choose 
to  designate  their  distinctions,  of  '  privilege '  among  them  ; 
but  none  are  exempt  from  the  equitable  law  of  their  religious 
community,  which  requires  each  individual  to  '  labor  with  hia 
hands  according  to  his  strength.' 

*  No  family,  we  believe,  is  permitted  to  exceed  a  hundred  members. 
Hear  and  admire,  ye  house  wivee.  , 


REDWOOD.  257 

A  village  is  divided  into  lots  of  various  dimensions.  Each 
inclosure  contains  a  family,  whose  members  are  clothed  from 
one  storehouse,  fed  at  the  same  board,  and  perform  their  do- 
mestic worship  together.  In  the  centre  of  the  inclosure  is  a 
large  building,  which  contains  their  eating-room  and  kitchen, 
their  sleeping  apartments,  and  two  large  rooms,  connected  by 
folding-doors,  where  they  receive  their  visitors,  and  assemble 
for  their  evening  religious  service.  All  their  mechanical  and 
manual  labors,  distinct  from  the  housewifery  (a  profane  term 
in  this  application),  are  performed  in  offices  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  main  dwelling,  and  within  the  inclosure.  In 
these  offices  may  be  heard,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the 
sun,  the  cheerful  sounds  of  voluntary  industry — sounds  as  sig- 
nificant to  the  moral  sense,  as  the  smith's  stroke  upon  his  anvil 
to  the  musical  ear.  One  edifice  is  erected  over  a  cold  peren- 
nial stream,  and  devoted  to  the  various  operations  of  the  dairy 
— from  another  proceed  the  sounds  of  the  heavy  loom  and  the 
flying  shuttle,  and  the  buzz  of  the  swift  wheels.  In  one  apart- 
ment is  a  group  of  sisters,  selected  chiefly  from  the  old  and 
feeble,  but  among  whom  were  also  some  of  the  young  and 
tasteful,  weaving  the  delicate  basket — another  is  devoted  to 
the  dress-makers  (a  class  that  obtains  even  among  Shaking 
Quakers),  who  are  employed  in  fashioning,  after  a  uniform 
model,  the  striped  cotton  for  summer  wear,  or  the  sad-colored 
winter  russet ;  here  is  the  patient  teacher,  and  there  the  in- 
genious manufacturer  ;  and  wherever  labor  is  performed,  there 
are  many  valuable  contrivances  by  which  toil  is  lightened  and 
success  insured. 

The  villages  of  Lebanon*  and  Hancock  have  been  visited 
by  foreigners  and  strangers  from  all  parts  of  our  union ;  if  they 

*  The  village  at  Lebanon  is  distinguished  as  the  United  Societies'  cen- 
tre of  Union. 


258  REDWOOD. 

are  displeased  or  disgusted  by  some  of  the  absurdities  of  the 
Shaker  faith,  and  by  their  singular  worship,  none  have  with- 
held their  admiration  from  the  results  of  their  industry,  inge- 
nuity, order,  frugality,  and  temperance.  The  perfection  of 
these  virtues  among  them  may,  perhaps,  be  traced  with  pro- 
priety to  the  founder  of  their  sect,  who  united  practical  wisdom 
with  the  wildest  fanaticism,  and  who  proved  that  she  under- 
stood the  intricate  machine  of  the  human  mind,  when  she  de- 
clared that  temporal  prosperity  was  the  indication  and  would 
be  the  reward  of  spiritual  fidelity. 

The  prosperity  of  the  society's  agriculture  is  a  beautiful 
illustration  of  the  philosophical  remark,  that  "  to  temperance 
every  day  is  bright,  and  every  hour  propitious  to  diligence." 
Their  skilful  cultivation  preserves  them  from  many  of  the  dis- 
asters that  fall  like  a  curse  upon  the  slovenly  husbandry  of  the 
farmers  in  their  vicinity.  Their  gardens  always  flourish  in  spite 
of  late  frosts  and  early  frosts — blasts  and  mildew  ravage  their 
neighbors'  fields  without  invading  their  territory — the  mischie- 
vous daisy,  that  spreads  its  starry  mantle  over  the  rich  mea- 
dows of  the  '  world's  people,'  does  not  presume  to  lift  its  yellow 
head  in  their  green  fields — and  even  the  Canada  thistle,  that 
bristled  little  warrior,  armed  at  all  points,  that  comes  in  from 
the  north,  extirpating  in  its  march,  like- the  hordes  of  barbarous 
invaders,  all  the  fair  fruits  of  civilization,  is  not  permitted  to 
intrude  upon  their  grounds. 

It  is  sufficiently  manifest  that  this  felicity  is  the  natural 
consequence  and  appropriate  reward  of  their  skill,  vigilance, 
and  unwearied  toil ;  but  they  believe  it  to  be  a  spiritual  bless- 
ing— an  assurance  of  peculiar  favor,  like  that  which  exempted 
the  Israelites  from  the  seven  Egyptian  plagues — an  accom- 
plishment of  the  promise  that  every  one  that  "  hath  forsaken 
houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or 


REDWOOD.  259 

children,  or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundred 
fold" 

The  sisters,  too,  have  their  peculiar  and  appropriate  bless- 
ings and  exemptions.  They  are  saved  from  those  scourges  of 
our  land  of  liberty  and  equality,  '  poor  help,'  and  'no  help.' 
There  are  no  scolding  mistresses,  nor  eye-servants  among  them. 

It  might  be  curious  to  ascertain  by  what  magical  process 
these  felicitous  sisters  have  expelled  from  their  thrifty  house- 
wifery that  busy,  mischievous  principle  of  all  evil  in  the  domestic 
economy  of  the  '  world's  people,'  known  in  all  its  Protean  shapes 
by  the  name  of  '  bad  luck ;'  the  modern  successor  of  Kobin 
Goodfellow,  with  all  the  spite,  but  without  the  genius  of  that 
frolick-loving  little  spirit,  he  who 

"  Frights  the  maidens  of  the  villagery, 
Skims  milk,  and  sometimes  labors  in  the  quern, 
And  bootless  makes  the  breathless  housewife  churn, 
And  sometimes  makes  the  drink  to  bear  no  barm." 

How  much  broken  china,  spoiled  batches  of  bread,  ruined 
tempers,  and  other  common  domestic  disasters  might  be  avoided 
by  the  discovery  of  this  secret ;  what  tribes  of  mice,  ants,  flies,  and 
other  household  demons,  might  be  driven  from  their  strong- 
holds !  Perhaps  those  provoking  solvers  of  mysteries,  who  are 
so  fond  of  finding  out  the  '  reason  of  the  thing,'  that  they  are 
daily  circumscribing  within  most  barren  and  inconvenient 
limits  the  dominion  of  the  imagination,  will  pretend  to  have 
found  the  clue  to  this  mystery  in  the  exact  order  and  elaborate 
neatness  of  the  sisterhood. 

The  sisters  themselves,  certainly,  hint  at  a  sublime  cause 
of  their  success,  when  in  reply  to  a  stranger's  involuntary  ad- 
miration of  their  stainless  walls,  polished  floors,  snow-white 
linen,  and  all  the  detail  of  their  precise  arrangement  and  orna- 


260  REDWOOD. 

mental  neatness,  they  say,  with  the  utmost  gravity, '  God  is  the 
God  of  order,  not  of  confusion.'  The  most  signal  triumph  of  the 
society  is  in  the  discipline  of  the  children.  Of  these  there  are 
many  among  them :  a  few  are  received  together  with  their 
'  believing '  parents ;  in  some  instances  orphans,  and  even 
orphan  families  are  adopted  ;  and  many  are  brought  to  the 
society^by  parents,  who,  either  from  the  despair  of  poverty,  or 
the  carelessness  of  vice,  choose  to  commit  their  offspring  to  the 
guardianship  of  the  Shakers.  Now  that  the  first  fervors  of 
enthusiasm  are  abated,  and  conversions  have  become  rare,  the 
adoption  of  children  is  a  substantial  aid  to  the  continuance  and 
preservation  of  the  society.  These  little  born  rebels,  natural 
enemies  to  the  social  compact,  lose  in  their  hands  their  pre- 
scriptive right  to  uproar  and  misrule,  and  soon  become  as 
silent,  as  formal,  and  as  orderly  as  their  elders. 

We  hope  we  shall  not  be  suspected  of  speaking  the  lan- 
guage of  panegyric  rather  than  justice,  if  we  add  that  the  hos- 
pitalities of  these  people  are  never  refused  to  the  weary  way- 
worn traveller,  nor  their  alms  to  the  needy ;  and  that  their 
faith  (however  absurd  and  indefensible  its  peculiarities)  is  tem- 
pered by  some  generous  and  enlightened  principles,  which  those 
who  had  rather  learn  than  scoff  would  do  well  to  adopt.  In 
short,  those  who  know  them  well,  and  judge  them  equitably, 
will  not  withhold  from  them  the  praise  of  moral  conduct  which 
they  claim,  in  professing  themselves,  as  a  community,  a  '  harm- 
less, just,  and  upright  people.' 

It  is  time  that  we  should  return  from  our  long  digression 
to  give  some  account  of  the  spiritual  and  physical  labors  of 
Reuben  Harrington.  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  that  fol- 
lowed the  day  of  the  brethren's  sage  council,  the  bell,  accord- 
ing to  the  uniform  custom,  sounded  for  the  evening  worship. 
The  brethren  and  sisters  poured  in  equal  streams  into  the  two 


REDWOOD.  261 

large  apartments,  which  were  now  thrown  into  one  by  the  open- 
ing of  the  wide  folding  doors.  A  few  candles  were  hung  around 
the  walls,  casting  a  dim  and  quivering  light  upon  the  strange 
throng.  The  men  took  their  stations  in  one  apartment,  the 
women  in  the  other,  and  arranged  themselves  opposite  to  each 
other  in  straight  lines,  extending  across  the  room.  The  eldest 
were  placed  in  the  front  ranks — by  this  arrangement  the  young 
people  were  saved  from  the  temptation  to  wandering  looks,  and 
their  consequence,  wandering  thoughts — not  uncommon  in  the 
most  orthodox  congregations. 

After  a  few  moments,  the  deep  and  reverential  silence  of 
the  assembly  was  broken  by  a  shout,  in  which  every  voice  was 
simultaneously  lifted  to  its  highest  pitch.  The  shout  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  hymn,  but  sung  so  loud,  with  such  discordant  and 
irregular  sounds,  (for  music  it  could  not  be  called,)  that  it  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  any  words,  excepting  '  our  mother ' 
and  '  Mother  Anne,'  which  seemed  to  form  a  kind  of  chorus. 
The  singing  was  accompanied  by  an  equal  and  steady  motion, 
an  alternating  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  which  resembles,  to 
a  profane  eye,  the  pas  bas  of  the  world's  dancers.  This  deaf- 
ening yell  and  uniform  motion  continued  till  their  breath  was 
spent,  when  all  the  assembly,  as  if  governed  by  one  instinct, 
relapsed  into  silence. 

They  remained  as  motionless  as  so  many  statues  till  the  pro-' 
found  stillness  was  broken  by  Harrington — "  Brethren  and  sis- 
ters," he  said,  "  we  labor  this  evening  for  a  special  gift,  and  to 
encourage  our  hearts,  and  enliven  our  faith,  it  is  meet  that  we 
should  bear  upon  our  minds  all  those  holy  men  and  women  of 
old,  who,  according  to  their  light  have  worshipped  in  the  dance. 
Sisters,  bethink  yourselves  of  Miriam — of  Miriam,  the  sister 
of  Aaron,  a  prophetess — the  first  in  the  female  line — who,  when 
she  sang  the  glorious  triumph  of  the  Lord  over  the  Egyptian 


262  REDWOOD. 

host,  '  took  a  timbrel  in  her  hand,  and  all  the  women  went  out 
after  her  with  timbrels  and  with  danced — Remember  the 
daughters  of  Shiloh,  who  went  '  yearly  to  the  feast  of  the  Lord 
to  dance  in  dances — and  King  David,  who  leaped  and  dc 
before  the  Lord,  so  that  Michal,  profane  Michal,  despised  him 
in  her  heart,  even  as  the  world's  people  in  these  latter  times 
despise  us,  and  deride  our  labor-worship. 

"  Ye  believers  need  not  be  told  that  the  Psalmist  justifies 
his  deeds  by  his  words,  and  exhorts  the  faithful  again  and 
again  '  to  praise  the  Lord  with  the  timbrel  and  the  dance ' — 
'  to  praise  His  name  in  the  dance}  Solomon  tells  us  '  there  is 
a  time  to  dance]  and  manifestly  he  could  not  mean  there  was 
a  time  for  those  vain  festive  rites,  wherewith  the  carnal  chil- 
dren of  this  world  worship  their  god. — Hath  not  the  holy  pro- 
phet Jeremiah  predicted  our  day  in  those  memorable  words — 
'  then  shall  the  Virgin  rejoice  in  the  dance,  both  young  men 
and  old  together?'  When  was  this  prediction  verified  in  the 
ball-rooms  of  the  world's  people  ? — There  the  young  man  goes 
not  forth  with  the  aged  brother,  but  selects  the  fair  and  youth- 
ful maiden  for  his  partner  in  the  dance  ;  and  nothing  can  be 
more  unlike  our  spiritual  labors,  than  the  movements  of  their 
bodies,  and  the  exercises  of  their  minds ! — Again  the  same 
prophet  saith,  '  0  Virgin  of  Israel,  thou  shalt  again  be  adorned 
with  thy  tabrets,  and  go  forth  in  the  dances.'1 " 

Here  Reuben  paused,  either  to  take  breath,  or  because  be 
had  exhausted  his  authorities  ;  and  the  assembly,  without  any 
visible  external  direction,  but  apparently  in  obedience  to  a 
common  impulse,  broke  up  their  ranks, — arranged  in  pairs,  the 
elder  taking  precedence  of  the  younger,  and  the  sisters  of  the 
brethren,  they  made  in  a  dancing  procession  the  circuit  of  the 
two  apartments.  A  small  knot  of  brethren  and  sisters  remained 
in  the  centre  of  each  room,  shouting  strange  music  for  the  dan- 


REDWOOD.  263 

cers,  and,  slowly  turning,  so  as  to  keep  their  faces  towards  the 
processiop,  which  moved  on  with  a  uniform  shuffling  step,  as  if 
it  was  composed  of  so  many  automatons,  their  arms  rising  and 
falling  mechanically;  and  their  monotonous  movements,  solemn? 
melancholy,  or  stupid  aspects,  contrasting  ludicrously  with  the 
festive  throngs  which  are  usually  seen  stepping  on  "  light  fan- 
tastic toe  "  through  the  mazy  dance. 

There  was  but  one  in  all  this  assembly  that  seemed  to  be 
governed  by  natural  feeling  ;  this  was  Emily,  who  in  obedience 
to  the  stern  requisition  of  her  aunt  had  come,  or  rather  been 
dragged  into  the  room ;  but  unable  to  perform  her  part  of  the 
insatie  worship,  unable  in  truth  to  support  her  own  weight, 
she  had  sunk  on  her  knees  in  a  recess  of  the  window  near 
which  she  was  standing ;  her  cap  had  fallen  from  her 
head,  and  laid  beside  her — her  fair  hair,  thus  permitted  to 
escape  from  its  bondage,  had  fallen  over  her  neck  and  shoul- 
ders ;  she  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  disordered, 
pale,  and  trembling,  there  she  remained,  till  the  assembly  form- 
ing into  the  procession,  exposed  her  to  every  eye,  looking  like 
a  culprit  awaiting  her  sentence. 

Susan  had  missed  her  from  her  side,  and  had  hoped  that 
she  had  stolen  away  to  her  own  apartment,  and  that  her  disap- 
pearance would  remain  unobserved.  Vain  were  the  elder  sister's 
efforts  to  command  peace  in  hex1  own  troubled  mind,  when  she 
beheld  the  humiliating  and  sorrowful  spectacle.  The  burning 
color  that  flushed  her  usually  sallow  cheek,  and  her  unsteady 
movements,  betrayed  her  affliction.  She  wpuld  have  given  the 
world  to  have  sheltered  her  fallen  favorite  from  the  disgrace 
of  such  an  exposure,  but  to  move  from  the  ranks  was  impossi- 
ble. The  elders  and  the  disciplined  passed  Emily  in  their 
rounds  without  any  other  notice  than  a  languid  and  brief  glance; 
but  the  younger,  and  especially  the  children,  unable  to  control 


264  REDWOOD. 

• 

their  curiosity,  gazed  on  her  till  their  heads  were  at  right 
angles  with  their  bodies.  Suddenly  the  procession  stopped ; 
and  Harrington,  advancing  from  the  ranks,  "labored  alone  with 
great  power,"  and  whirling  around  like  a  top,  to  which  his  form 
bore  no  faint  resemblance,  he  continued  his  violent  exercise  for 
an  hour ;  then  approaching  Emily,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
head — "  To  me,  brethren  and  sisters,"  he  said,  "  is  assigned  the 
task  and  given  the  gift  to  snatch  this  prey  from  Satan.  The 
work  is  to  be  wrought  out  in  private  conference,  when  words 
of  rebuke,  of  wisdom,  and  of  conviction  will  flow  from  my  lips. 
as  the  water  flowed  from  the  rock  at  the  touch  of  Moses. — 
Fear  not,  young  maiden — tremble  not — be  not  thus  disheart- 
ened— the  devil  shall  release  you  from  his  toils,  and  you  shall 
yet  shine  out  a  bright  star  among  the  faithful." 

The  assembly  acquiesced  silently  in  the  result  of  Reuben's 
extraordinary  worship.  They  dispersed  to  their  several  apart- 
ments ;  and  Susan,  without  one  word  of  inquiry  or  reprimand, 
led  Emily  to  her  own  room,  and  spent  the  silent  watches  of  the 
night  in  weeping  and  praying  for  her. 

On  the  following  day  Harrington  began,  and  continued  for 
many  successive  days,  his  private  conferences  with  Emily. 
For  some  time  he  confined  himself  to  harangues  on  the  pecu- 
liar doctrines  of  his  sect.  Emily  listened  dutifully,  but  the 
more  she  listened,  the  more  her  growing  aversion  to  them 
•strengthened.  He  insisted  that  the  net  in  which  Satan  Lad 
caught  her,  could  not  be  broken,  unless  she  would  be  governed 
by  his  wisdom — guided  by  his  inward  light.  Emily  sighed 
and  wept,  but  never  attempted  a  reply. 

After  a  while  he  changed  his  tone  ;  he  occasionally  softened 
his  rebukes  with  praise,  sometimes  mingled  flattery  with  his 
admonitions,  and  darkly  intimated  a  purpose  that  he  dared  not 
yet  fully  disclose.  Still  Emily  listened  patiently :  she  had 


REDWOOD.  265 

been  always  remarkable  for  singleness  of  heart,  a  soft  temper, 
and  tender  affections,  but  never  for  a  quick  or  keen  perception. 
Her  mind,  too,  had  been  recently  weakened  by  the  hard  con- 
flict between  her  natural  affections  and  her  mistaken  sense  of 
duty  :  it  was  not  wonderful,  therefore,  that  she  did  not  distrust 
Harrington's  integrity,  nor  suspect  the  meaning  that  glim- 
mered through  his  mystical  language. 

He  continued  gradually  preparing  her  mind  for  the  propo- 
sition he  had  in  reserve  for  her,  nothing  doubting  of  its  final 
acceptance  ;  for  Reuben,  in  common  with  all  thorough  hypo- 
crites, was  quite  incredulous  as  to  the  existence  of  goodness, 
and  believed  that  the  seemingly  upright  only  wanted  the  op- 
portunity and  the  motive  to  turn  aside  from  the  straight  and 
narrow  way.  At  last,  impatient  at  his  own  slow  and  serpentine 
advances  to  Emily's  understanding,  and  afraid  that  in  spite  of 
her  habitual  passiveness,  her  patience  would  be  exhausted  be- 
fore he  had  approached  the  attainment  of  his  purpose,  and 
hoping  too,  against  hope,  that  her  uniform  silence  foreboded 
his  final  success — he  took  a  bold,  straight-forward  step.  At 
his  accustomed  hour  he  entered  the  room"  where  Emily  was 
sitting  with  the  elder  sister.  He  detained  Susan  for.  a  moment 
to  inquire  ';  if  she  yet  perceived  any  smoking  of  the  flax — any 
symptom  of  revival  in  the  child  ?"  She  shook  her  head  mourn- 
fully, and  slowly  withdrew,  leaving  him  alone  with  Emily  with 
evident  reluctance. 

He  then  drew  his  chair  close  to  the  poor  girl,  and  taking 
her  hand  (a  freedom  he  had  never  before  ventured  upon),  and 
not  rebuked  by  the  innocent  look  of  surprise  and  inquiry  which 
she  turned  on  him,  he  proceeded  to  say,  in  the  softest  voice  he 
could  assume,  "  You  are  a  worthy  maiden,  Emily — a  chosen 
vessel — a  vessel  selected  for  a  great  ministry — if  you  have  been 
cast  into  the  furnace,  it  is  that  you  may  come  out  as  gold  seven 
12 


266  REDWOOD. 

times  tried — the  honored  instrument  must  be  made  bright  and 
keen  in  the  fires  of  tribulation.  Awake,  maiden  !  awake  !  and 
survey  the  path  that  I  am  appointed  to  open  to  your  view — 
the  path  we  must  travel  together  ;  for  we  are  not  permitted 
longer  to  remain  here,  mere  watchmen  on  the  walls  of  Zion, 
but  are  commanded  to  march  boldly  forward  to  the  enemy's 
camp. 

"  Listen,  while  I  disclose  to  you  the  revelation  that  has 
been  vouchsafed  to  me.  I  have  obtained  a  great  advance  upon 
the  forward  wheel — it  has  been  made  plain  to  me  that  we  are 
together  to  accomplish  a  great  work — to  turn  and  overturn  till 
we  bring  to  pass  the  conversion  of  the  world." 

A  faint  light  dawned  on  Emily's  mind,  and  fearfulness  min- 
gled with  the  amazement  with  which  she  had  hitherto  gazed  on 
Harrington.  He  perceived  that  she  was  startled,  but  he  went 
on  undaunted.  "  The  Israelites  were  commanded  to  spoil  the 
Egyptians,  and  we  are  permitted^nay,  ordered,  to  take  of  the 
lucre  (which  belongeth  equally  to  our  brethren  and  to  us)  in 
order  to  help  us  forward  in  our  blessed  mission,  and  to  reward 
our  labors.  A  goodly  sum  in  the  bank  at  Albany  awaiteth  us. 
All  these  matters  it  is  duty  for  a  season  to  hide  from  our 
brethren  and  sisters — they  cannot  yet  receive  them.  Our  de- 
parture must  be  secret — at  night — yea,  this  night." 

Astonished,  alarmed,  and  still  uncertain,  Etoily  did  not 
utter  a  word :  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Reuben,  and  looked  as 
though  they  would  have  started  from  their  sockets. 

"  Nay,  precious  maiden,"  he  continued,  misinterpreting  her 
silence,  "  do  not  tremble  thus — ye  need  not  be  alarmed.  "We 
have  a  farther  dispensation  :  as  we  go  among  the  world's  peo- 
ple, we  are  permitted  to  be  united  in  wedlock  by  one  of  the 
world's  priests." — Till  this  moment  Reuben's  meaning  had  but 
partially  appeared  to  Emily  through  the  fog  of  cant  phrases. 


REDWOOD.  267 

in  which  he  had  artfully  involved  it ;  but  his  last  words,  and 
the  fond  look  that  accompanied  them,  were  like  the  touch  of 
Ithuriel — her  persecutor  stood  revealed  in  his  true  light.  She 
snatched  her  hand  from  him,  and  groaning  aloud,  she  sprang 
towards  the  door — the  door  opened,  and  Susan  entered. 

"  Oh  for  mercy's  sake,  save  me — take  me  away  !"  cried  the 
poor  girl,  clinging  to  her  aunt  in  desperation. 

"  What  means  this  ?"  inquired  Susan,  looking  at  Harring- 
ton ;  "  have  you  dared  to  insult  the  innocent  girl  ? — Be  calm, 
Emily,  my  child,  be  calm." 

"  Smooth  your  brow,  sister,"  replied  Harrington,  with  per- 
fect coolness,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all  that  has  passed  be- 
tween us." 

"  Say  on,"  she  answered,  without  in  the  least  relaxing  her 
features,  "  and  bear  it  in  mind  that  I  shall  know  from  this 
afflicted  girl,  who  never  opened  her  mouth  to  speak  a  lie, 
whether  ye  speak  truly." 

"  My  word,"  replied  Reuben,  "  will  go  farther,  much  far- 
ther with  the  people  than  that  poor  far-gone  sinner's." 

"  That  may  be,  Reuben, -but  not  with  me  ;  therefore  speak 
quickly  and  truly." 

There  is  a  moral  power  in  virtuous  resolution  that  the  most 
vicious  find  it  difficult  to  resist.  Reuben  perceived  that  he 
could  neither  conceal  nor  deny,  and  that  his  best,  indeed  his  only 
policy  was  to  state  the  truth,  and  to  varnish  it  over  with  the 
best  gloss  his  ready  wit  could  invent.  He  said  that  all  hia 
attempts  to  reclaim  Emily  had  hitherto  been  fruitless  ;  that  as 
elder  sister  knew,  he  had  labored  in  season,  and  out  of  season, 
and  all  in  vain — all  without  producing  a  sign  of  life  in  the 
child. 

"  That  morning,"  he  said,  "  it  had  been  sent  in  upon  his 
mind  to  try  her  with  a  temptation,  in  order  to  ascertain  how 


268  REDWOOD. 

far  she  was  under  the  dominion  of  Satan  ;  or  at  least  to  drive 
away  the  dumb  devil  that  possessed  her — in  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded." He  then  went  on  to  detail  what  he  had  said  to  Emily 
verbatim,  omitting  nothing  but  his  design  on  the  funds  of  the 
society  ;  a  circumstance  that  he  rightly  judged  his  last  mon- 
strous proposition  had  effaced  from  Emily's  mind.  "  And  now, 
sister,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  I  think  your  conscience  will 
tell'' you  that  you  have  judged  me  with  unrighteous  judgment ; 
that  nature  has  so  far  gotten  the  upper  hand  of  grace  with 
you,  that  you  are  blinded,  sorely  blinded  ;  and  henceforth 
you  will  feel  it  to  be  duty  to  leave  the  girl  to  my  appointed 
ministry." 

"  Never,  never,"  replied  Susan,  firmly  :  "  she  has  been  un- 
kindly dealt  with  already — nature  and  grace  both  speak  for 
the  child,  Reuben — both  tell  me  that  she  needs  '  more  gentle 
usage.'  " 

"  But,  woman,  I  have  the  gift." 

"  I  have  a  gift  also,  Reuben  :  and  sooner  shall  you  have  my 
heart's  blood,  than  I  will  trust  this  girl  with  you  again  ;  ye 
need  not  lift  your  voice  in  the  congregation ;  ye  need  not  whis- 
per among  the  brethren.  Remember,  I  am  your  elder ;  I 
fear  you  not,  Reuben  ;  I  suspect  you." 

The  determined  look  with  which  Susan  accompanied  her 
words,  quelled  Harrington's  spirit :  he  dared  not  attempt  a 
reply,  and  smothering  an  imprecation,  he  departed  to  digest  as 
he  best  could  his  rage  and  mortification. 

Susan  did  not  think  it  expedient  to  make  any  farther  di- 
rect* disclosure  to  Emily  of  her  suspicions  of  Harrington,  but 
she  cautiously  questioned  and  cross-questioned  her.  Emily, 
confounded  by  Reuben's  subtlety,  and  feeble  and  exhausted, 
could  not  remember  that  he  had  said  to  her  any  more  or  other, 
than  he  had  repeated  to  the  elder  sister. 


REDWOOD.  269 

Notwithstanding  the  agreement  of  the  simple  girl's  testi- 

» 

mony  with  Reuben's  story,  Susan  was  too  sagacious  to  be  de- 
ceived by  the  interpretation  the  crafty  brother  had  put  upon 
the  language  he  had  held  to  her,  and  having  for  a  long  time 
felt  a  growing  dislike  and  distrust  of  him,  she  was  not  con- 
vinced that  she  had  been  mistaken  in  her  conclusions ;  and 
she  remained  quite  satisfied  that  she  had  done  right  in  refus- 
ing him  any  further  communication  with  Emily. 

Emily's  melancholy  became  every  day  deeper  and  more 
fixed,  and  Susan  began  to  fear  the  total  annihilation  of  her 
mind.  She  imposed  no  restraint  on  her,  but  permitted  her  to 
walk  when  she  chose ;  to  remain  secluded  from  observation  in 
her  own  room,  and  sometimes  to  lie  all  day  on  the  bed  in  a 
state  of  listlessness  and  vacuity  in  which  she  appeared  scarcely 
conscious  of  her  existence. 


270  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  Curse  on  his  perjured  arts !  dissembling,  smooth  ! 
Are  honor,  virtue,  conscience,  all  exil'd  ? 
Is  there  no  pity,  no  relenting  ruth  ?" — BURNS. 

EMILY  was  one  day  sitting  by  her  window,  when  she  saw  a 
party  of  travellers  from  Lebanon  Springs  stop  at  their  gate. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  she  might,  through  the 
agency  of  some  one  of  the  party,  get  a  letter  conveyed  to  her 
friends.  The  thought  that  this  might  be  the  first  step  towards 
leaving  the  society,  flitted  across  her  mind,  but  without  form- 
ing any  distinct  purpose,  she  hastily  penned  the  letter  which 
was  the  occasion  of  Ellen's  abrupt  departure  from  Eton. 
She  then  stationed  herself  at  a  door  that  opened  into  one  of 
the  passages  through  which  the  visitors  were  to  pass  ;  and  ar- 
resting the  attention  of  a  romantic  young  lady  who  was  in  the 
rear  of  the  throng,  she  slipped  the  letter  into  her  hand,  unob- 
served by  any  one,  and  entreating  her  to  convey  it  safely  to  a 
post-office,  she  disappeared,  leaving  her  confidant  quite  elated 
with  the  trust  which  had  been  confided  to  her  by  the  pale  inter- 
esting little  Shaker,  and  which  she  discharged  as  has  been  , 
seen,  with  laudable  fidelity. 

Activity  is  as  necessary  to  the  health  of  the  mind,  as  ex- 
ercise to  that  of  the  body.     Emily  derived  more  benefit  from 


REDWOOD.  271 

the  effort  she  had  made  in  writing  and  dispatching  her  letter 
than  she  had  felt  from  the  combined  skill,  moral  and  medical, 
of  the  whole  fraternity.  For  a  few  days  her  heart  was  cheered, 
and  her  countenance  brightened.  She  had  no  settled  purpose 
of  leaving  the  society :  she  still  believed  it  her  duty  to  remain 
with  them,  and  the  tender  sympathy  and  forbearance  of  her 
aunt  had  strengthened  the  almost  filial  love  she  bore  her- — 
the  only  sentiment  that  alleviated  the  misery  of  her  condition. 
Still  her  belief  of  Harrington's  hypocrisy,  countenanced  and 
confirmed  as  it  was  by  Susan,  had  shaken  her  faith  in  the 
monstrous  pretensions  of  the  believers :  she  fancied  she  saw 
deceit  lurking  under  many  a  broad  brim,  and  she  felt  a  secret 
revulsion  from  the  dancing  worship  which  she  had  never  joined 
in,  or  even  witnessed  since  the  memorable  night  of  Harring- 
ton's inspiration. 

A  few  days  after  the  dispatch  of  the  letter,  and  just  at 
twilight — the  sweet  hour  consecrated  by  all  young  ladies  in 
their  teens  to  sentiment  and  romantic  meditations — Emily, 
availing  herself  of  the  liberty  she  had  recently  enjoyed, 
strolled  out  without  any  other  purpose  than  to  be  alone,  and 
think  her  own  thoughts.  She  had  not  walked  far  when  she 
perceived  Reuben  approaching  her  He  did  not  appear  to 
have  observed  her,  and  to  escape  his  notice  she  turned  into  a 
little  inclosure  she  had  just  then  reached,  which  a  few  broken 
stones  marked  as  a  place  of  interment.  She  paused  a  moment 
at  the  graves,  and  almost  envied  their  silent  tenants. 

The  Shakers  preserve  all  their  austere  formality  in  the 
disposition  of  their  dead ;  each  grave  is  designated  by  a 
rough  hewn  stone  inscribed  with  the  initials  only  of  the  name 
borne  by  the  person  who  reposes  beneath  it.  Emily's  thoughts 
naturally  reverted  to  the  village  churchyard  where  her  father 
and  her  mother  slept.  That  seemed  a  social  place  when  com- 


272  REDWOOD. 

pared  with  the  Shaker  burial-ground.  Her  imagination  pic- 
tured the  storied  monuments — the  sacred  spot  where  her 
parents  laid — the  beautiful  willow  that  drooped  over  it,  and 
the  neatly  carved  white  stone  that  stood  under  its  shadow,  set- 
ting forth  in  its  long  inscription  their  virtues  and  their  suffer- 
ings. "  Ob,  that  I  was  there,"  was  the  involuntary  breathing 
of  her  spirit. 

After  lingering  for  a  few  moments  lost  in  melancholy  con- 
templations, she  turned  away  and  pursued  her  walk  through 
a  secluded  path  to  the  garden  which  lay  at  a  short  distance 
from  her.  As  she  entered  it  she  passed  an  old  man  arranging 
a  bed  of  violets,  which  with  many  other  beautiful  flowers  ob- 
tain sufferance  among  these  ascetics  on  account  of  some  real  or 
fancied  medical  virtue. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  ye,  child,"  said  the  good-natured  old  man, 
"  I  think  ye  are  picking  up  a  little,  and  I  am  heartily  glad  to 
see  it :  I  would  not  have  you  a  drooping  lily  all  your  days.  It 
is  a  short  pilgrimage  through  this  world,  and  a  thorny  path  it 
may  be.  but  seeing  it  leads  to  the  garden  of  Paradise,  it  is  not 
worth  while  for  a  reasonable  person  to  worry  with  the  troubles 
by  the  way  ;  they  can't  last  long — that  is  a  comfort,"  continued 
the  speaker,  striking  his  spade  into  the  earth,  and  resting  upon 
it.  "  I  have  seen  mothers  wailing  for  their  first-born  as  if  their 
very  souls  died  with  them,  and  in  a  few  days,  or  a  few  years  at 
worst,  that  passed  away  like  a  vapor,  they  too  were  cut  down 
and  lying  quiet  beside  them.  I  have  seen  children  withering 
away  like  a  severed  branch  at  the  death  of  their  parents,  and  a 
frost  has  come  and  nipt  them  in  their  flower.  I  have  seen  people 
wearying  themselves  for  riches  and  honors,  and  just  when  they  « 
had  got  them,  leave  them  all  for  the  shroud  and  the  cold  earth. 
I  tell  you.  my  young  sister,  life  is  a  short  journey — therefore 
don't  be  discouraged  if  the  road  is  not  quite  to  your  liking." 


REDWOOD.  273 

Emily  made  no  reply  to  this  kind  exhortation,  but  she 
plucked  some  of  the  violets,  and  asked  the  old  man  if  they 
were  not  sometimes  called  "  heart' s-ease." 

"  Yea.  I  believe  some  folks  call  them  heart's  ease." 

"  And  do  they  grow  nowhere  but  on  the  believers'  ground  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  Yea,  yea,"  replied  the  man,  smiling  significantly,  as  if  he 
understood  the  import  of  her  inquiry  ;  "  they  grow  all  about 
among  the  neighbors — every  where." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  Emily  for  a  moment,  and  then 
casting  his  eyes  in  every  direction,  and  ascertaining  there  was 
no  one  in  hearing,  he  lowered  his  voice  and  said,  "  I  believe 
you  to  be  a  discreet  good  little  body,  and  that  you'll  keep  the 
counsel  I  give  you  to  yourself.  You  are  wearied  with  this 
kind  of  strange,  still  life,  child — your  mind  is  running  upon 
your  relations,  your  home — may  be  upon  some  sweetheart — 
now  ye  need  not  look  so  frightened,  it  is  nat'ral,  it  is  nat'ral — I 
don't  blame  you  for  it.  I  always  feel  sorry  to  see  a  young  and 
tender  plant  put  into  soil  it  don't  love  ;  it  never  takes  root 
fairly — never  thrives.  Now  my  advice  is,  that  you  pluck  up 
courage,  tell  the  people  the  plain  truth,  go  home  to  your 
friends,  get  a  good  husband,  and  'guide  the  house.'  Ye  can 
take  scripture  warrant  with  you,  for  it's  God's  own  word,  that 
'  in  every  tuition,  he  that  feareth  him  and  worketh  righteous- 
ness is  accepted  of  him.'  " 

Emily  with  very  natural  surprise  gazed  at  the  old  man  as 
if  she  discredited  her  senses.  "Are  you  a  Shaker?"  she 
asked. 

"A  Shaker,  girl !"  he  replied,  laughing — "  yea,  and  a  very 
good  Shaker."  His  muscles  contracted  as  he  added,  "  I  have 
been  what  is  called  an  unfortunate  man  in  the  world.  Every 

thing  went  against  me.     I  lost  my  wife,  my  children — lost  my 
1'2* 


274  REDWOOD. 

property — and  I  thought  I  could  not  do  better  than  to  get  a 
shelter  in  this  peaceable  place  ;  I  had  a  remarkable  gift  for 
gardening,  and  the  people  accepted  me." 

"  Then  you  are  not  a  Shaker  ?"  said  Emily,  bewildered  by 
the  contrariety  of  his  motives  with  those  she  had  always  heard 
professed  by  the  Shakers. 

"  Yea,  but  I  am — that  is  to  say,  in  the  main  a  believer. 
Our  people  are  foolish  about  some  things,  but  then  I  never  saw 
any  religion,  but  there  were  some  weeds  among  it ;  and  to  speak 
truly,  I  am  too  near  the  end  of  my  summer  to  care  much  where 
my  leaves  drop — but  it  is  a  pity  you  should  be  growing,  nay, 
growing  you  are  not,  but  withering  in  the  shade :  say  nothing, 
but  store  my  counsel  in  your  heart,  and  let  it  bring  forth  its 
fruit  in  season  :" — thus  concluding,  the  kind-hearted  old  gar- 
dener turned  away  and  left  Emily  to  reflect  on  his  singular 
communication. 

Though  not  a  very  skilful  reasoner,  she  came  to  the  just 
conclusion,  that  such  Shakers  as  the  crafty  Harrington  and  the 
frank  gardener,  were  not  Shakers  by  divine  impulse  ;  that  the 
ties  which  attached  others  to  the  society  were  not  in  all  cases 
indissoluble — and  that,  perhaps,  the  society  itself  did  not  exist 
by  prescriptive  divine  right. 

She  sought  a  sequestered  part  of  the  garden,  and  seating 
herself  in  the  shade  of  some  fruit-trees,  and,  as  she  thought, 
secure  from  observation,  she  drew  from  her  bosom  the  precious 
little  scroll  which  linked  her  to  the  world.  All  that  was  there 
written  was  more  legibly  inscribed  on  her  heart,  but  still  she 
loved  to  look  on  it.  The  sight  of  it  touched  her  imagination 
like  a  conjurer's  wand,  and  brought  before  her  all  those  images 
she  most  loved  to  dwell  upon.  She  resigned  herself  to  the 
visions  of  her  fancy,  forgot  the  formal  habitations  around  her, 
the  severe  brethren  and  the  pale  sisters ;  and  was  restored  to 


REDWOOD.  275 

the  Lenox  family,  joining  in  their  bustling  occupations,  sharing 
their  pleasures,  the  object  of  the  kindness  of  all,  and  the  cho- 
sen, loved  partner  of  James.  She  beheld  her  old  grandmother 
cheerful  and  approving — Ellen  Bruce  smiling  on  her  with 
sisterly  kindness — the  merry  faces  of  the  children  ;  she  heard 
their  unrebuked  mirth — Debby's  loud  laugh, — she  saw  and  she 
heard  all,  till  awakened  from  her  reverie  by  an  approaching 
footstep,  she  looked  up  and  beheld  Harrington  coming  towards 
her.  She  instinctively  started  on  her  feet,  and  intending  to 
restore  the  scroll  to  its  hiding  place,  she  unconsciously  dropped 
it.  As  she  walked  hastily  past  Harrington  homeward,  he 
said,  "  Stop,  Emily — stop,  my  good  girl — I  have  something 
particular  to  say  to  you  " 

"  I  cannot  hear  it  now,"  she  replied,  redoubling  her  speed. 

"  You  cannot,"  muttered  Reuben,  looking  after  her,  "  the 
time  will  come  when  you  shall  hear  me — and  hear  me  patiently 
and  quietly." 

Provoked  at  being  defeated  in  his  purpose  of  speaking  to 
her,  he  remained  where  she  left  him,  whetting  his  resentment 
and  brooding  vengeance,  when  the  note  she  had  dropped 
caught  his  eye.  He  took  it  up  and  read  it.  '  Ah  now,'  thought 
he,  '  I  see  the  reason  why  my  fair  offers  were  received  with 
horror  and  disdain — the  little  fool  has  a  younger  sweetheart — 
but  she  shall  find  the  old  fox  an  overmatch  for  the  young 
hound.' 

Never  did  a  vulture  fasten  his  talons  around  his  victim  with 
more  exultation  than  Harrington  thrust  poor  little  Emily's 
lost  talisman  into  his  pocket — he  did  not  see  exactly  how  he 
should  turn  it  to  account ;  but  it  gave  him  power,  and  power 
in  his  hands  was  the  sure  means  of  mischief.  It  would  not  be 
very  edifying  to  thread  all  the  intricate  windings  of  his  bad 
mind — to  examine  the  projects  he  conceived  and  dismissed, 


276  REDWOOD. 

till,  favored  by  an  unlooked-for  chance,  he  devised  one  which 
flattered  him  with  the  hope  of  the  certain  destruction  of  his 
innocent  victim,  and  with  the  prospect  of  complete  vengeance 
on  the  elder  sister,  who  he  well  knew  was  vulnerable  alone 
through  this  object  of  her  natural  affection. 

Subtle  and  active,  it  was  not  long  before  his  plans  were 
matured.  Two  days  after  he  had  obtained  possession  of  the 
note,  for  which  Emily  had  anxiously  and  vainly  sought,  he  came 
on  some  pretext  of  business  into  an  apartment  where  she  and 
one  of  the  sisters  were  sitting.  Emily  felt  as  strong  an  impulse 
to  leave  the  room  as  if  a  venomous  reptile  had  crept  into  it.  but 
afraid  of  attracting  the  notice  of  a  third  person,  she  remained 
with  as  much  tranquillity  as  she  could  command. 

After  a  few  moments  a  traveller  chanced  to  pass  in  a  wag- 
on. Emily's  companion  was  attracted  to  the  window.  Har- 
rington followed  her,  and  looking  earnestly  at  the  traveller,  he 
said,  carelessly,  "  that  young  man  favors  James  Lenox — it  is 
possible  it  may  be  him" — he  paused,  and  EmiK  instinctively 
sprang  towards  the  window.  Reuben  looked  at  her,  and  con- 
science-smitten, she  shrunk  back  into  her  chair. 

"I  am  told  young  Lenox  is  in  these  parts,"  pursued  Har- 
rington, "  and  I  judged  he  might  ride  over  here  to  see  some  of 
Jhis  old  friends."  Again  he  turned  his  eyes  on  Emily,  hers  met 
his — her  face  and  neck  were  crimson.  "  I  wish.  Judy,"  said 
he,  to  the  young  woman,  who  was  still  gazing  out  of  the  win- 
dow, "that  ye  would  go  to  the  sewing-r^bm  and  inquire  if  my 
at  :^  finished  ?" 

Judy  went,  and  Emily  rose  fc^follo 

Harrington,  in  a  low  voice,  and -unobserved  by  Judy,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  her  arm,  and  closing'  the  door,  "  with  all  your 
gettings,  get  discretion,  young  woman :  your  ready  step,  your 
«;    burning  cheeks,  would  this  moment  have  betrayed  your  secret 


REDWOOD.  277 

to  me,  if  I  had  not  known  it  before.  Nay,  noiv  you  must  hear 
me — be  calm,  do  not  tremble,  we  have  no  time  to  waste — take 
this  note,"  said  he,  restoring  her  treasure,  "  and  be  thankful 
that  it  fell  into  friendly  hands.  The  hint  I  gave  you  was 
spoken  in  earnest:  James  Lenox  is  in  Lebanon.  The  silly  boy 
sent  a  letter  to  you  sealed ;  it  fell  into  my  hands ;  it  was  my 
duty  to  open  it,  and  my  duty  as  you  well  know  I  perform  at 
all  risks — here  it  is."  Emily  hastily  caught  it  without  observ- 
ing the  diabolical  sneer  on  Reuben's  face.  "  Now,  mark  me, 
young  woman,"  he  continued. — "  I  see  it  is  a  vain  struggle  you 
are  keeping  up — ye  cannot  abide  here :  and  as  you  are  of  the 
earth  earthy,  I  cannot  counsel  you  to  abide — you  shall  see  that 
I  am  your  friend,  and  will  return  good  for  evil.  Lenox  urges 
you  to  join  him  at  Lebanon :  he  thinks  if  he  comes  here,  ye 
will  not  be  able  to  resist  the  open  opposition  of  the  people 
— ye'll  read  his  letter,  and  ye'll  find  this  is  the  last  day 
of  his  stay  in  these  parts ;  and  if  ye  do  not  join  him  be- 
fore to-morroV,  he  concludes  you  are  still  in  bonds  to  the  be- 
lievers. 

"  I  have  had  the  letter  in  my  possession  four  days,  and  you 
may  thank  yourself  that  you  have  not  got  it  sooner ;  ye  have 
fled  from  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  tiger,  or  a  rattlesnake.  Now, 
mark  me,  if  you  take  my  counsel  you'll  go  to-night  quietly  and 
secretly.  Little  as  you  deserve  it  from  me,  it  is  in  my  mind  to 
help  you :  if  you  will  come  to  the  supper-table  with  your  cap 
tied,  I'll  take  it  for  a'signal  that  you  are  determined  to  go.  ami 

I  will  be  ready  one  hour  after  sunset  with  a  wagon  and  liarses, 

-  •» 
just  at  the  turning  of  the  road  that  leads  to  North-house..-    I 

wish  to  go  thus  early  that  I  may  return  before  daylight,  for  it 
is  not  needful  the  brethren  fehould  know  that  I  take  up  for 
you.  They  mi<rht  not  view  your  departure  as  I  do :  for  after 
all  it  is  but  acting  up  to  your  light,  which  is  all  we  profess  to" 


• 

278  REDWOOD. 

require.  Now  go,  young  woman,  and  the  Lord  direct  all  your 
steps." 

He  gazed  after  her  as  she  passed  through  the  passage,  and 
exclaimed,  exultingly  rubbing  his  hands,  "  I  have  caught  her 
— I  have  caught  her  at  last.  Let  the  fox  but  clear  the  ground, 
and  the  old  one  may  bark  till  doomsday." 

It  was  some  time  after  Emily  reached  her  own  apartment 
before  she  became  sufficiently  composed  to  read  the  letter :  her 
head  swam,  and  her  hands  shook  violently  ;  but  at  last,  making 
a  great  effort,  she  did  read  it.  It  was  filled  with  passionate 
declarations  of  love,  and  earnest  and  repeated  entreaties  that 
she  would  join  the  writer  at  Lebanon,  where  he  said  he  should 
await  her  four  days.  He  alleged  many  very  plausible  reasons 
for  not  coming  to  the  village.  He  rested  his  earnest  suit 
mainly  on  his  ardent,  devoted  attachment  to  her ;  but  at  the 
close  of  the  letter  he  insinuated  that  if  she  did  not  return  to 
Eton  with  him,  her  grandmother's  death  must  lie  at  her  door, 
so  much  had  her  desertion  of  the  poor  old  lady  shattered  her 
health  and  spirits 

Emily  perused  and  reperused  the  letter — she  felt  her  cheeks 
burning  while  she  read  it,  and  she  wondered  that  James  should 
write  in  a  style  so  impassioned — '  surely  he  ought  not,'  she 
thought,  and  the  next  moment  mentally  accused  herself  of  in- 
justice. "  Alas,"  she  said,  '•  if  my  heart  beats  thus  at  the  bare 
thought  of  meeting  him,  can  I  blame  him  if  he  talks  in  the 
fashion  of  the  world's  people? — my  head  is  in  such  strange 
confusion,  that  it  may  be  I  do  not  understand  him  aright." 

But  every  other  consideration  was  swallowed  up  in  the  ne- 
cessity of  coming  to  an  immediate  decision  whether  to  go  or 
remain.  Emily's  convictions,  as  they  had  been  deemed,  had 
gradually  subsided  as  her  early  attachments  revived,  and  her 
inclinations  for  the  world  strengthened  ;  and  now  no  strong  tie 


REDWOOD.  279 

remained  to  be  broken  but  her  love  for  the  elder  sister,  which 
had  produced  such  habitual  dependence  on  her,  that  she  had 
become  a  mere  machine,  governed  by  a  power  which  she  could 
neither  understand  nor  resist. 

There  was  now  a  demand  on  her  for  extraordinary  energy 
— she  must  act  independently,  promptly,  and  secretly.  Much 
cause  as  she  had  to  distrust  Harrington's  integrity,  she  did  not 
on  this  occasion  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  kindness.  In  the 
confusion  and  agitation  of  her  mind,  she  did  not  look  behind. 
Her  mind  was  engrossed  by  the  great  circumstance  of  her  de- 
parture, and  she  scarcely  thought  of  the  means  by  which  it 
was  to  be  effected.  Once,  indeed,  the  thought  flitted  across 
her  mind,  that  Keuben's  compassionate  interference  in  her  be- 
half was  very  strange,  and  for  the  moment  she  felt  an  almost 
invincible  repugnance  to  trust  herself  with  him  ;  but  there 
was  no  alternative — she  had  no  other  means  of  meeting  James. 
She  could,  it  was  true,  declare  her  resolution  to  leave  the  so- 
ciety. No  one  was  ever  detained  by  physical  force  ;  but  to  a 
weak  and  irresolute  mind  there  are  moral  barriers  that  are  as 
impassable  as  prison-walls,  and  Emily  felt  that  she  had  not  the 
courage  necessary  to  persevere  against  the  deliberate  opposi- 
tion of  the  society — to  withstand  the  counsel,  rebuke,  or  sneer 
that  she  must  expect  from  the  different  characters  that  com- 
posed that  strange  community- — and  above  all  to  meet  the  elder 
sister's  eye.  But  how  could  she  bear  to  deceive  her,  to  steal 
away  from  her  tenderest  friend  as  from  an  enemy  !  The 
thought  of  making  this  treacherous  return  to  her  maternal  kind- 
ness quite  overcame  the  poor  girl,  and  Susan  entering  at  this  mo- 
ment, found  her  wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing  most  piteously. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  Emily,  child  ?"  she  asked,  in 
her  kindest  voice  :  "  this  distress  is  something  more  than  com- 
mon with  you." 


280  REDWOOD. 

Emily  made  no  other  reply  than  by  throwing  her  arms 
around  Susan's  neck,  and  hiding  her  face  on  her  bosom. 

"  Nay,  child,"  said  Susan,  folding  her  arms  around  her, 
"  ye  must  not.  It  is  but  a  tempting  of  Providence.  Ye'll  be 
quite  worn  out  in  the  struggle,  and  if  ye  cannot  conquer,  why 
— ye  had  better  yield." 

'  Now — now,  if  ever,'  thought  Emily,  '  is  the  moment ;' 
and  she  raised  her  head  from  Susan's  bosom  with  the  full  pur- 
pose of  confessing  her  weakness  and  her  wishes.  But  when 
she  lifted  her  tearful  eyes,  and  saw  the  calm,  fixed  resolution 
marked  on  the  elder  sister's  face,  and  met  her  eye,  in  which 
there  was  the  majesty  of  command,  it  awed  her  spirit  as  that 
of  man  is  said  to  awe  the  inferior  animals.  Her  head  fell 
again  on  Susan's  bosom.  "  Ye  are  a  strange  wayward  chijd," 
said  she  :  "  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you  at  this  moment,"  she  add- 
ed— "  nay,  do  not  start,  I  shall  return  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  !"  echoed  Emily. 

"  Yea,  to-morrow ;  and  Judy  has  promised  to  keep  you 
company  to-night.  One  of  the  elders  at  Lebanon  draws  near 
his  end,  and  they  have  sent  for  me,  to  consult  upon  some  tem- 
poralities to  be  settled  before  his  departure.  Now  sit  down 
and  compose  yourself — it  troubles  me  to  leave  you  thus." 

Susan  led  Emily  to  a  chair,  and  at  this  moment  one  of  the 
pisters  gave  her  notice  that  thJk  brethren  were  already  in  the 
wagon  and  waiting  for  her.  While  she  hastened  her  prepara- 
tions, she  exhorted  Emily  to  be  more  tranquil,  and  above  all 
not  to  permit  any  one  to  see  how  far  the  adversary  yet  main- 
tained his  power  over  her.  Emily  sprang  after  her  as  she 
closed  the  door,  and  grasping  her  gown,  held  her  fast  for  a  mo- 
ment, still  doubtful,  irresolute,  then  clasping  her  arms"  round 
Susan's  neck — "  Will  you,"  she  sobbed,  "  will  you  always  love 
me?" 


REDWOOD.  281 

"  Yea,  dear  child,  and  always  pray  for  you." 

Emily  retreated  to  her  room.  Susan;s  last  gracious  words 
comforted  her,  but  she  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  se- 
vere struggles  ;  finally,  at  the  close  of  it,  she  came  to  the  sup- 
per-table leaning  on  Judy,  with  her  cap  tied  ;  and  one  hour 
after,  having  evaded  her  companion's  observation,  she  stole, 
unnoticed  by  any  one,  to  the  appointed  place  of  rendezvous, 
where  she  found  Harrington,  and  took  with  him  the  road  to 
Lebanon. 

Harrington,  for  reasons  all-important  to  himself,  abandoned 
the  road  usually  travelled,  and  turned,  at  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  the  village,  into  one  which  passes  in  a  northerly 
direction  over  the  mountain  to  the  town  of  Lebanon.  There 
are  on  this  sequestered  road  but  two  or  three  habitations  for  a 
distance  of  several  miles,  and  though  it  presents  many  enchant- 
ing views  of  the  uplands  and  valleys,  and  ought  therefore  to 
attract  the  lovers  of  the  picturesque,  few  of  that  (in  our  coun- 
try) sm^ll  and  select  class  ever  heard  of  it ;  and  business  trav- 
ellers preferring  the  more  levelled  and  turnpike  road,  this  re- 
mains unfrequented  and  grass-grown. 

The  necessity  that  Harrington  should  reach  Albany  with 
all  possible  expedition,  and  execute  his  business  there  before 
it  was  practicable  that  he  shoul<M>e  overtaken,  forbade  his  per- 
mitting Emily  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  his  purposes,  and  he 
had  scarcely  passed  the  boundary  of  the  village,  before  he  be- 
gan to  unfold  them  to  her.  His  language  was  entirely  changed 
— all  the  mysterious  phrases,  and  the  obscure  and  technical 
words,  with  which  he  was  wont,  as  he  expressed  himself,  to 
'  sanctify  his  discourse,'  to  guard  it  with  equivocal  meanings 
and  veil  it  in  unintelligible  terms,  were  exchanged  for  the  con- 
cise language  of  the  man  of  business.  Emily  soon  compre- 
hended that  she  was  the  dupe  of  his  arts — '  that  the  decoy 


282  EEDWOOD. 

letter  was  forged  by  him,  after  the  model  of  the  note,  (he,  as 
he  boasted,  holding  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer) — that  James 
Lenox  neither  expected  nor  wished  for  her — and  finally,  that 
her  reputation  being  destroyed  by  her  elopement  with  Har- 
rington, her  only  resource  was  to  proceed  with  him,  without 
any  ado,  to  the  nearest  Justice,  who  could  perform  the  marriage 
ceremony,  to  accept  his  hand,  which  he  generously  proffered, 
and  then  pursue  her  way  with  him  to  Albany,  where  he  insult- 
ingly concluded  he  should  possess  himself  of  a  sum  of  money 
that  would  enable  him  to  make  a  lady  of  her  for  the  rest  of 
her  life.' 

Emily  heard  him  through  with  dismay ;  and  springing 
from  his  side,  she  would  have  cleared  the  wagon  in  an  instant, 
but  he  perceiving  her  design,  passed  his  arm  around  her,  and 
pulled  her  back  on  to  the  seat,  and  there  detained  her  in  his 
strong  grasp.  She  screamed  for  help  with  reiterated  cries,  and 
the  only  answer  she  received  was,  "  Be  quiet,  sweetheart — you 
spend  your  breath  in  vain — there  is  nothing  in  these  woods  to 
hear  you  but  ihe  bats  and  owls — no  '  elder  sister '  to  snatch 
you  from  me." 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  Emily,  turning  to  him  with  a  look  of 
helplessness  and  appeal  that  might  have  awakened  compassion 
in  a  tiger. — "  Oh,  do  pity  meJ' 

"  Pity  you,  indeed  !"  he  replied  ;  "  I  have  none  of  that 
article  on  hand  ;  I  used  it  all  up  on  myself  while  I  staid  among 
those  devilish  fools.  Take  wit  in  your  anger,  girl — what  can't 
be  cured  must  be  endured.  I  foresaw  that  I  should  have 
trouble  with  your  stubborn  nature,  and  I  have  provided  ac- 
cordingly. But  fair  play  is  a  jewel,  and  the  Lord  knows,  I 
would  like  to  treat  you  handsomely  if  ^pu  will  hear  to  reason 
and  let  me."  They  had  now  nearly  attained  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  and  Harrington  stopped  his  horses.  "  Now,  Emily  Allen," 


REDWOOD.  283 

said  he,  "  I  leave  it  to  your  free  choice  to  go  with  me  to  the 
first  Justice  we  can  find,  and  there  quietly,  and  as  it  were 
willingly,  be  made  Mrs.  Harrington,  so  that  man  can't 
put  asunder  what  God  joins  together — or  abide  here,  where 
I  have  bespoke  a  cage  and  a  keeper  for  you  till  my  re- 
turn, when  you  will  be  glad  enough  to  take  me  on  my  own 
terms." 

Emily  listened  in  silence  to  the  particulars  of  the  wretch's 
plot  against  her :  her  whole  frame  trembled,  and  her  lips 
quivered  :  she  made  no  other  reply  than  by  attempting  again 
to  scream  for  help,  but  her  voice  was  so  faint  and  incapable  of 
articulation,  that  it  sounded  like  the  smothered  cry  of  a  person 
attempting  to  scream  in  the  agony  of  a  frightful  dream. 

"  Well,"  said  Reuben,  after  pausing  but  a  moment,  "  if 
you  won't  hear  to  reason,  you  must  e'en  abide  by  the  conse- 
quences." He  then  turned  his  horses  from  the  road  into  a 
deeply-shaded  passage  through  the  woods,  where,  by  the  im- 
perfect starlight,  not  a  trace  of  a  footstep  could  be  discerned. 
The  way  however  had  been  used,  during  the  winter,  for  the 
transportation  of  wood  to  the  neighboring  villages,  and  was 
sufficiently  cleared  from  impediments,  to  allow  the  cautious 
Reuben  to  pass  slowly  and  safely  through  it.  Emily  looked 
around  her  in  utter  despair — she  cast  her  eyes  up  to  the  heavens 
as  if  to  appeal  for  mercy  there — their  stillness  and  serene 
beauty  seemed  to  mock  and  aggravate  her  misery :  she  tried 
to  frame  a  mental  petition  to  the  only  Power  that  could  rescue 
her,  but  her  mind  was  so  shaken  by  terror -that  she  could  not 
command  her  thoughts  for  the  effort. 

They  had  proceeded  about  half  a  mile,  and  Harrington 
again  stopped.  A  bright  light  streamed  through  a  vista  in  the 
woods  on  their  right.  Emily  looked  in  the  direction  whence 
it  proceeded,  and  saw  through  the  open  door  of  a  hovel,  a  hu- 


284  REDWOOD. 

/ 

man  figure  enveloped  in  a  blanket,  and  extended  on  the  ground 
before  a  blazing  fire.  •  The  light  played  fitfully  on  the  figure, 
now  almost  dying  away,  and  then  streaming  upward  nearly  to 
the  aperture  in  the  roof  through  which  the  smoke  found  its 
way.  Happily  imagination  could  not  aggravate  her  terrors ; 
and  now  fully  aware  of  her  own  helplessness,  she  sat  as  still  as 
if  she  had  been  turned  to  stone,  while  Harrington  vociferated 
"  Holla !  Sooduck — doctor  !  the  devil  take  the  lazy  loon,  is  he 
asleep,  or  drunk  ?"  Reuben's  repeated  calls  at  length  roused 
a  dog,  whose  head  laid  on  his  master's  bosom,  and  his  barking 
awakened  the  sleeper.  He  raised  his  head,  shook  back  the 
long  black  locks  that  shaded  his  eyes,  and  looked  around  as  if 
uncertain  whence  the  sound  had  proceeded. 

"Who's  wanting  the  doctor?"  he  asked,  in  a  surly  tone: 
"  fools — will  they  never  learn  not  to  come  to  me  at  the  moon's 
full?" 

He  then  drew  his  blanket  around  him,  and  was  about  to 
resume  his  sleeping  posture,  when  Harrington  roused  him 
effectually.  "  Here,  Sooduck,"  he  screamed,  "  here  I  am  on  the 
spot — have  you  forgotten,  old  fellow  ?  Here  is  the  jug  well 
filled,  and  here  is  the  girl." 

"  Ah  !  is  it  you,  friend  Reuben  ?  Here  I  am,  true  as  steel, 
watching  for  you." 

"  A  devil  of  a  pretty  watch  you  keep,"  muttered  Harring- 
ton. "  Come,  come  along,  doctor,  I  have  no  time  to  lose,  every 
minute  is  worth  a  golden  guinea  to  me."  The  old  man  moved 
slowly  and  with  difficulty  towards  the  wagon — "why,  how 
now.  Emily,  girl,"  continued  Harrington,  "  it's  hard  parting,  is 
it  ?  She  clings  to  me,  doctor,  like  a  bur." 

"What  have  you  brought  here?"  aslred  the  old  man,  look- 
ing inquiringly  at  Emily,  who.  quite  spent  with  terror,  had 
sunk  insensible  into  Harrington's  arms.  "  No,  no,  friend,"  he 


REDWOOD.  285 

added,  turning  away,  "  since  the  breath  is  gone.  I'll  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  her :  it  is  bad  luck  meddling  with  the  dead,  and 
there  was  no  death  in  the  bargain." 

"  Stop,  you  old  fool,"  exclaimed  Harrington. 

"  Fool  I  may  be,  friend  Reuben,  but  I'll  not  be  fool  to  a 
fool — I  tell  you  again,  I'll  not  undertake  with  the  dead." 

"  Excuse  me,  doctor,"  said  Reuben,  in  a  moderated,  sooth- 
ing tone,  "  you  have  mistaken  your  case  for  the  first  time  in 
your  life :  the  girl  is  no  more  dead  than  you  or  I,  only  scared 
to  death.  Sooduck,  your  old  Indian  face  has  frightened  her 
out  of  her  wits — she  is  faint,  too,  poor  little  sweetheart,  with 
grief  at  parting.  Here,  take  the  jug,  first,"  he  added,  well 
knowing  that  he  offered  an  argument  irresistible  to  Sooduck : 
"  there  is  life  of  man  for  you,  doctor — it  will  make  your  lazy 
blood  race  through  your  old  veins  again,  and  warm  your  cold 
heart  to  do  a  good  turn  to  a  friend." 

"  Ah,  Reuben,  Reuben,"  replied  the  old  man,  grasping  the 
jug  and  swallowing  a  draught  from  it,  "  you  know  what  is  need- 
ful. The  stuff,"  he  added,  after  repeating  the  application, 
"  has  put  life  into  me  already — now  give  me  my  prisoner  and 
be  off." 

Reuben,  with  the  little  aid  that  Sooduck  was  able  to  afford 
him,  succeeded  in  lifting  Emily  from  the  wagon  and  conveying 
her  to  the  hut,  where  he  placed  her  on  some  fresh  straw  that 
appeared  to  have  been  provided  for  the  purpose,  and  then  left 
her,  enjoining  it  on  the  old  man  to  watch  her  narrowly,  and 
treat  her  kindly.  After  having  once  gone  to  the  wagon,  he  re- 
turned to  advise  Sooduck  to  administer  a  sleeping  potion,  '  it 
would  save  trouble,'  he  said,  '  and  make  safe  work.' 

"  Never  you  fear,  friend  Reuben,"  replied  Sooduck ;  "  trust 
me  and  my  dog  to  guard  this  little  she-pigeon."  Harrington 
thought  there  was  in  truth  very  little  to  apprehend,  and  he 


286  REDWOOD. 

departed  exulting  in  the  expectation  of  the  final  success  of  his 
savage  scheme. 

Emily  soon  recovered  from  her  fainting  fit,  but  she  passed 
the  night  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement  little  short  of  mad- 
ness. Before  morning,  however,  she  sunk  into  a  quiet  sleep,  in 
consequence  of  a  composing  draught,  which  Sooduck  half  com- 
pelled and  half  persuaded  her  to  swallow — repose  had  its  usual 
beneficent  effect,  and  she  awoke  with  the  first  beam  of  daylight 
quite  tranquillized.  She  had  now  for  the  first  time  sufficient 
presence  of  mind  to  examine  her  prison  and  her  jailer.  The 
hut  was  about  ten  feet  square,  and  constructed  of  slender  poles 
well  secured  in  the  ground,  and  bent  together  at  the  upper  ex- 
tremity in  the  form  of  an  arbor — the  sides  and  top  were  filled 
in  with  flexible  brush-wood  closely  matted  together.  Some 
brands  and  ashes,  the  relics  of  the  evening's  fire,  laid  on  and 
about  two  flat  stones  which  composed  the  fire-place.  A  chair 
so  rough,  that  one  might  have  fancied  it  the  first  barbarous 
essay  towards  forming  that  indispensable  domestic  article  ;  an 
iron  pot  and  two  Skillets,  were  the  only  furniture  of  this  tene- 
ment, rude  as  the  rudest  structures  of  the  primitive  inhabitants. 
The  remnant  of  an  Indian  cake  laid  on  a  scorched  board  near 
the  fire-stones ;  and  some  trout,  that  had  been  caught  the  pre- 
ceding day  in  a  mountain  stream,  were  languidly  moving  in 
a  large  wooden  bowl  nearly  filled  with  water.  Sooduck,  still 
stupefied  by  the  copious  draughts  he  had  taken  from  Reuben's 
jug,  was  stretched  on  a  mat  before  the  door — his  dog  laid  be- 
side him.  The  faithful  animal  ever  and  anon  would  start  from 
his  sleep,  look  inquiringly  around  him,  lick  his  master's  face, 
and  fall  asleep  again  on  his  bosom. 

Sooduck.  the  Indian,  (for  such  he  was)  had  all  the  peculi- 
arities of  his  race.  Though  so  old  that  he  looked  as  if '  death 
had  forgotten  to  strike  him' —  his  gigantic  form  was  still  erect 


REDWOOD.  287 

and  muscular.  In  vain  Emily  explored  his  long  face,  as  the 
increasing  light  of  day  revealed  its  rigid  lines  and  worn  chan- 
nels, for  some  trace  of  humanity,  some  signal  of  compassion ; 
but  it  was  a  visage  to  pierce  the  heart  of  one  who  sought  for 
mercy  with  utter  despair — a  visage  in  which  brutal  sensuality 
was  mingled  with  a  fierceness  that  neither  time  nor  events 
could  tame.  She  remembered  to  have  heard  this  man  de- 
scribed, and  marvellous  medical  skill  imputed  to  him.  She 
recognized  some  of  the  signs  of  his  profession  hanging  around 
the  interior  of  his  hut ;  strings  of  the  rattles  of  rattlesnakes 
— skins  of  snakes — snakes  salted  and  dried  in  the  air — 
bunches  of  herbs  and  roots — the  plumage  of  birds — their 
skeletons  and  eggs — in  short,  he  seemed  to  have  levied  his 
contributions  equally  on  the  elements  of  earth,  air,  and 
water. 

There  are  still  in  the  most  civilized  parts  of  our  country, 
some  individuals  of  the  aboriginal  race,  who,  like  the  remnants 
of  their  stone  monuments  and  sacrifice-rocks,  remain  among  us 
memorials  of  past  ages.  They  seek  the^  most  secluded  and 
wildest  spots,  where  the  face  of  nature,  yet  untouched  by  man, 
expresses  some  sympathy  for  them — owns  an  alliance  with 
them.  Some  of  them  are  pretenders  to  medical  skill,  and  re- 
ceive the  significant  appellation  of  "  root  doctors."  They  no 
longer  affect  to  possess  the  charms,  and  use  the  spells  of  the 
ancient  pow-vjows,  but  their  preparations  are  made  with  a 
studied  secrecy  which,  by  its  influence  over  the  imaginations 
of  the  vulgar,  produces  magical  effects.  Without  taxing  our 
credulity  to  believe  in  all  the  marvellous  cures  that  are  as- 
cribed to  them,  we  see  no  reason  why  the  simples  they  extract 
from  the  bosom  of  our  kind  «mother  earth  should  not  prove 
as  innocent  and  quite  as  efficacious  as  the  drugs  of  foreign 
soils. 


288  REDWOOD. 

Every  one  has  felt  the  inspiring  influence  of  returning 
daylight — the  most  timid  are  emboldened  by  it.  Emily  inhaled 
the  cool  and  fragrant  morning  air ;  she  saw  through  the  open 
door  the  dewy  foliage  glittering  in  the  sunbeams,  and  the 
cheerful  light  that  checkered  the  shaded  footpath,  and  the 
voice  of  nature  seemed  to  whisper  encouragement  to  her  spirit. 
She  heard  the  notes  of  the  lark,  and  the  robin,  and  they 
sounded  in  her  ear  like  the  voices  of  her  familiar  friends. 
Exhausted  as  she  was  by  long  sufferings  and  recent  terrors, 
hope  nerved  her  to  attempt  her  liberty.  The  rattling  of  the 
straw  as  she  moved  from  it  startled  the  vigilant  dog  ;  she  saw 
him  fix  his  eye  upon  her,  and  looking  around  for  some  means 
of  diverting  his  attention,  she  espied  a  piece  of  dried  meat 
hanging  over  the  door ;  she  cautiously  took  it  down,  stooped 
over  him  and  patted  him  coaxingly,  while  she  offered  him 
the  tempting  bjibe ;  but  he  shook  off  her  arm,  and  with  a 
low  growl  expressed  his  disdain  of  her  arts. 

Finding  the  dog  impracticable,  she  trusted  that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  awaken  his  master  from  his  deep  sleep,  and 
stealing  timidly  around  his  feet,  and  having  attained  the 
threshold  of  the  door,  she  ascertained  by  one  fearful  glance 
that  he  still  slept  soundly,  and  rashly  bounded  over  the  door- 
step ;  Wt  she  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  dog,  who  having 
jealously  watched  her  stolen  movements,  now  sprang  after  her, 
and  caught  her  garments  between  his  teeth.  While  she  made 
an  effort  to  extricate  herself,  the  yelping  of  the  animal  awoke 
his  master,  who  growled  on  her  more  fiercely  than  his  dog. 
She  turned  towards  him,%ft'nd  sunk  on  her  knees,  and  with 
tears  and  entreaties,  besought  him,  '  as  he  hoped  for  that 
mercy  from  Heaven  which  he  *-ould  so  soon  need,  that  he 
would  have  mercy  on  her.'  He  needed  her  no  more  than  if 
she  had  spoken  to  him  in  a  dead  language  ;  and  after  gazing 


REDWOOD.  289 

on  her  for  a  few  moments  silently,  and  with  a  mixture  of  sullen 
anger  and  brute  indifference,  he  commended  and  caressed  his 
dog,  and  then  pulled  the  helpless  despairing  girl  into  the  hut. 
She  sunk  back  on  her  straw  bed,  while  Sooduck,  apparently 
unconscious  of  her  sobs,  and  even  of  her  presence,  proceeded 
to  make  preparations  for  his  breakfast. 

He  first  whetted  his  appetite  by  a  copious  draught  of 
Reuben's  liquor,  and  then  kindled  a  fire,  on  which,  without  any 
fastidious  preparation,  he  threw  the  still  gasping  trout.  When 
they  were  but  half  roasted,  he  offered  one  on  a  piece  of  Indian 
cake  to  Emily,  who,  as  might  be  anticipated,  rejected  his  hos- 
pitality, though  her  fast  had  been  a  long  one.  Quite  unaf- 
fected by  the  scruples  of  his  guest,  Sooduck  devoured  his 
savage  repast  with  a  voracious  appetite.  He  then  left  the  hut, 
secured  the  door  as  well  as  he  was  able  with  a  stout  cord,  and 
attaching  his  dog  by  his  collar  to  a  chain  wMch  was  fastened 
in  a  staple  driven  into  one  of  the  upright  posts,  he  left  the 
trusty  animal  to  guard  his  prisoner,  while  he  with  his  pole 
and  line  sauntered  to  a  little  brook  near  his  dwelling,  but 
hidden  by  a  thick  growth  of  trees  which  it  nourished  on  its 
sides.  , 

Emily  remained  stretched  on  her  rude  bed.  now  giving  way 
to  a  burst  of  grief  as  the  recollection  of  the  past,  or  the 
gloomy  portents  of  the  future  overpowered  her — and  now  re- 
lapsing into  profound  silence,  rendered  more  grievous  by  the 
sweet  music  of  nature  which  struck  on  the  poor  prisoner's 
sickening  sense.  The  melody  of  the. birds,  as  they  flew  about 
her  prison  house,  breathed  freedom  and  gladness;  and  the 
brook,  which  she  distinctly  heard  as  it  gurgled  around  the 
roots  of  the  trees  that  impeded  its  way,  or  bounded  over  the 
stones  that  vainly  obstructed  its  free  passage,  seemed  to  mock 
her  with  the  song  of  liberty. 
13 


290  REDWOOD. 

She  was  sometimes  startled  by  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  In- 
dian, who,  still  pursuing  his  drowsy  pleasure  in  the  shelter  of 
the  wood,  sent  his  greeting  to  his  dog,  whose  hoarse  response 
answered  the  purpose  of  the  sentinel  call  of  "  all  is  well." 


REDWOOD  291 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

'*  Proud  of  her  parts,  but  gracious  in  her  pride — 
She  bore  a  gay  good-nature  in  her  face, 
And  in  her  air  was  dignity  and  grace." — CRABBE. 

WHILE  the  transactions  so  fatal  to  the  peace  of  Emily  Allen 
were  going  on,  Deborah  and  Ellen  were  quietly  pursuing  their 
journey,  though  not  as  expeditiously  as '  Ellen  could  have 
wished.  She  had  not,  as  has  been  seen,  left  Eton  in  the  most 
tranquil  state  of  mind,  and  she  was  perhaps  more  impatient  at 
the  little  accidents  that  retarded  their  progress  than  she 
would  have  been  at  another  time,  or  under  other  circumstances. 
Sometimes  the  old  racked  chaise  needed  repair — sometimes  the 
horse,  who  as  Deborah  said,  "  had  like  herself  seen  better 
days,  and  needed  to  be  favored,"  required  a  day's  delay— and 
sometimes  they  came  into  the  neighborhood  of  an  old  acquaint- 
ance or  far-off  cousin  of  Deborah's,  and  she  judged  it  right  to 
diverge  from  their  direct  route  to  prove  to  them  her  friendly" 
remembrance ;  for  she  scrupulously  maintained  the  New 
England  custom,  (which  among  the  degenerate  moderns  is 
becoming  obsolete,)  of  noticing  a  relative  to  the  remotest  de- 
gree. Ellen  often  felt  inclined  to  remonstrate  against  these 
repeated  delays ;  but  Deborah  was  so  much  accustomed  to 
exercise  the  petty  tyranny  of  having  her  own  way,  that  Ellen 


292  REDWOOD. 

rightly  concluded  it  would  be  much  easier  for  her  to  acquiesce 
than  for  Deborah  to  relinquish  her  habitual  control. 

Ten  days  had  elapsed,  when  they  stopped  at  a  village  inn 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Shaker  settlement  at  Hancock  :  a  hostler 
advanced  ;  Deborah,  before  she  resigned  the  reins,  gave  to 
him  the  most  minute  directions  as  to  the  refection  of  her 
beast ;  but  the  man,  puffed  up  with  the  transient  importance 
which  he  derived  from  an  unusual  concourse  of  travellers  that 
had  filled  the  stables  and  stable-yards  of  the  inn  with  fine 
horses  and  fine  equipages,  was  evidently  quite  heedless  of 
Miss  Debby's  directions.  She  at  last  had  recourse  to  the  usual 
expedient  of  travellers,  and  though  she  utterly  disapproved 
the  use  of  such  appliances,  which  she  thought  were  little  better 
than  bribery  and  corruption,  she  reluctantly  drew  a  four-pence 
half-penny  from  her  pocket,  and  giving  it  to  the  man,  with  the 
air  of  one  who  offers  ample  consideration  for  '  value  received,' 
"  Here,"  said  she,  "  take  this  and  deal  kindly  with  the  beast — 
poor  fellow,  he  has  had  a  tough  morning  of  it,  what  with  the 
heat  and  the  hills." 

The  hostler  took  the  bit  of  money,  looked  at  it  and  turned 
it  over  with  mock  gravity,  balanced  it  on  the  end  of  his  finger, 
as  if  weighing  it,  and  then  tossed  it  high  in  air,  accompanying 
this  last  expression  of  his  contempt  with  an  insolent  laugh,  in 
which  he  was  joined  by  half  a  dozen  of  his  associates  who  had 
gathered  around  him. 

Deborah  picked  up  the  money  as  it  fell,  and  deliberately 
replacing  it  in  her  pocket,  said  with  perfect  coolness,  "  A  fool 
and  his  money  are  soon  parted — this  is  a  right  punishment  for 
my  giving  in  to  these  new-fangled  ways — here,  fellow,  give  me 
the  reins,  and  call  the  master  of  the  house  to  me." 

This  appeal  to  his  principal  reduced  the  menial  to  his 
proper  insignificance,  and  turned  the  laugh  against  him,  and 


REDWOOD.  293 

Deborah  remained  fairly  mistress  of  the  field  till  the  landlord 
made  his  appearance.  The  raised  voices  of  the  different  par- 
ties attracted  several  persons  to  the  windows  and  door  of  the 
inn,  and  Ellen  felt  herself  rather  awkwardly  situated  as  she 
stood  awaiting  the  termination  of  Deborah's  arrangements. 

"  Walk  in,  Miss — walk  in,"  said  the  landlord  to  her,  "  here, 
this  way,  in  the  parlor  ;  the  house  is  considerable  full,  but 
you'll  find  room  enough  to  spare  yet — I'll  attend  to  your 
mother — walk  in." 

The  attention  was  now  withdrawn  from  Deborah  to  Ellen, 
and  each  observer  probably  noticed  the  disparity  between  the 
supposed  mother  and  daughter. 

"  Impossible,"  whispered  a  young  man  who  stood  in  the 
doorway  to  a  lady  beside  him ;  "  that  she-grenadier  cannot  be 
mother  to  this  pretty,  graceful  girl." 

"  Impossible  is  a  rash  word  for  you,  Mr.  Philosopher,"  re- 
plied the  young  lady :  "  look  there,"  she  added,  pointing  to  a 
cactus  in  flower,  "  there  are  strange  productions — odd  relations 
in  nature." 

Ellen's  ear  caught  enough  of  these  remarks  as  she  passed 
along,  to  inform  her  that  she  was  the  subject  of  them  ;  and  her 
embarrassment  was  increased  when  the  landlord  opened  the 
parlor  door  to  usher  her  in,  and  she  perceived  that  the  room 
was  already  occupied  by  a  large  party  of  travellers — she  shrunk 
back,  and  begged  her  conductor  to  show  her  to  a  private  apart- 
ment. He  said  that  was  impossible,  for  his  rooms  were  all 
taken  up.  The  young  lady  at  the  door  observed  Ellen's  em- 
barrassment, and  advancing,  with  a  mixture  of  good-nature  and 
graceful  politeness,  begged  Ellen  to  enter. 

"  Our  party,"  she  said,  "  is  of  such  an  unconscionable  size  ! 
We  travel  en  masse  like  the  patriarchs — men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, and  much  cattle — and  when  we  have  gained  possession 


204  REDWOOD. 

of  a  territory  we  are  quite  terrible ;  but  the  parlor  of  a  country 
inn  you  know  is  neutral  ground,  where  all  parties  have  equal 
rights." 

A  smile  and  a  bow  from  Ellen  expressed  her  sense  of  the 
proffered  courtesy,  and  .she  passed  in  and  seated  herself  at  an 
unoccupied  window. 

"  You  are  a  rash  woman,  Miss  Campbell,"  said  the  gentle- 
man in  a  low  voice,  whom  Ellen  had  first  seen  at  the  door,  and 
who  had  followed  to  the  parlor.  "I  see  a  storm  lowering  on 
Mrs.  Norton's  brow,  and  I  fear  she  will  not  permit  you  the 
privilege  of  neutrality."  , 

"  I  care  not,  Mr.  Howard — the  motto  of  my  family  arms  is, 
'  dauntless  in  war,  gentle  in  peace.'  " 

"  My  family's  boastful  motto,  also,"  replied  Mr.  Howard. 

"  Indeed !"  exclaimed  Miss  Campbell,  "  that  is  singular ; 
but  I  hope  you  are  not  ashamed  of  it,"  she  added,  noticing  a 
little  embarrassment  in  Mr.  Howard's  manner. 

"  Oh,  certainly  not ;  though  one  might  blush  at  thinking 
how  little  we  degenerate  sons  can  do  in  these  peaceful  times  to 
verify  the  pretensions  of  our  fighting  forefathers — but  see,  the 
storm  is  ready  to  burst  on  your  devoted  head.  Mrs.  Norton 
is  beckoning  to  you — and  even  that  look  of  invincible  good  na- 
ture which  you  have  assumed  will  not  mollify  her."  Mr.  How- 
ard's eyes  followed  Miss  Campbell  with  an  expression  that 
seemed  to  say, '  that  look,  in  poetic  days,  might  have  propitia- 
ted a  hyena,  or  any  of  the  cat  tribe.' 

"  My  dear  Miss  Campbell,"  began  Mrs.  Norton,  drawing  up 
her  severe  features  to  as  stern  an  expression,  as  if  she  was 
taking  up  her  testimony  against  the  depravity  of  the  age — "  My 
dear  Miss  Campbell,  I  really  wonder  at  you." 

"  Wonder  !  Can  you,  Mrs.  Norton,  condescend  to  so  vulgar 
an  emotion  as  wonder  ?" 


REDWOOD.  295 

"  But  I  am  serious,  Miss  Grace." 

"  So  I  perceive,  ma'am." 

"There  can  be  no  doubt,  I  fancy,  that  you  understand 
me?" 

"  Indeed  I  have  not  that  pleasure." 

Few  things  are  more  mortifying  to  a  person  of  self-conse- 
quence, than  to  be  called  on  to  explain  the  cause  of  a  personal 
irritation,  which  one  imagines  quite  obvious.  After  a  little 
fidgeting  on  her  chair,  and  clearing  of  her  throat,  all  which 
Miss  Campbell  awaited  with  the  most  provoking  serenity,  the 
lady  spoke  with  the  manner  of  one  who  in  her  own  little  sphere 
has  been  looked  upon  as  quite  oracular. 

"  Miss  Campbell,  it  has  ever  been  my  opinion,  confirmed 
by  all  my  experience,  and  I  have  had  more  than  most  people ;" 
— she  paused  again,  probably  from  the  difficulty  of  giving  suffi- 
cient dignity  to  a  very  small  subject,  and  Miss  Campbell  slip- 
ped in — "  Incontrovertibly,  ma'am,  few  people  live  to  be  more 
than  threescore." 

"  I  did  not  mean,  Miss  Grace,  the  experience  of  age ;  every 
one  who  lives  to  a  certain  time  has  that — but  the  experience 
of" 

"  Wisdom,  ma'am — observation,  &c.,  &c., — I  understand 
you.': 

"  Oh,  cousin  Grace,  you  are  such  a  tease ;"  said  a  young 
lady  who  sat  at  Mrs.  Norton's  right  hand,  and  who  perceived 
she  was  quite  as  much  provoked  by  being  understood,  as  by 
not  being  understood. 

"  Your  cousin  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Norton,  "  may  tease  you 
young  ladies,  Miss  Sarah,  but  I  assure  you  that  I  am  not  a 
subject  for  teasing." 

"  My  dear  Sarah,"  said  Miss  Campbell,  with  affected  gra- 
vity, "  how  could  you  suspect  me  of  taking  such  high  aim — 


296 

you  know  mine  are  all  random  shafts,  and  if  they  wound,  are 
'  heaven  directed' ;  but,  Mrs.  Norton,  pray  do  not  deprive  me 
of  that  valuable  opinion  of  yours — the  result,  if  I  remember, 
of  unparalleled  experience." 

"  I  shall  not  be  deterred  from  expressing  it  by  your  ridicule, 
Miss  Campbell,  self-respect  renders  one  quite  superior  to  ridi- 
cule." 

"  Self-respect  renders  one  quite  superior  to  ridicule,"  re- 
peated Miss  Campbell  with  deliberation  and  emphasis — at  the 
same  time  taking  out  her  pocket-book,  seemingly  with  the  pur- 
pose of  recording  on  her  tablets  Mrs.  Norton's  saying — "  self- 
respect,"  she  again  repeated,  as  she  drew  out  her  pencil,  when 
Mrs.  Norton  stopped  her  by  exclaiming — "  Do  you  mean  to 
insult  me,  Miss  Campbell  ?" 

"  Insult  you  !  my  dear  Mrs.  Norton,  Lord  bless  me  !  no — 
really,  if  I  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  misunderstand  you 
again,  you  must  not  lay  all  the  blame  on  my  poor  intellects ; 
for  you  talk  so  much  in  the  style  of  our  select  reading  lessons 
at  school,  that  I  was  almost  fancying  myself  there  again,  and 
acting  accordingly." 

Mrs.  Armstead,  the  aunt  of4  Miss  Campbell,  thought  her 
niece  was  carrying  matters  too  far — she  perceived  that  Mrs. 
Norton  pelt  as  awkwardly  as  a  warrior  of  the  olden  time,  who 
should  be  in  his  heavy  coat  of  mail,  assaulted  by  a  light-armed 
soldier  of  the  present  day. 

"  My  dear  Grace,"  she  said,  "  you  have  not  allowed  Mrs. 
Norton  time  to  explain  herself.  She  noticed  the  companion  of 
the  young  woman,  towards  whom  you  have  thought  proper  to 
give  yourself  such  an  air  of  patronizing  hospitality,  in  an  alter- 
cation with  the  hostler — she  says  she  is  an  excessively  vulgar 
woman,  and  she  thinks,  my  dear,  that  it  is  a  great  piece  of  pre- 
symption  for  this  young  woman  to  come  into  our  parlor  with- 


REDWOOD.  297 

out  an  invitation,  and  rather  ill-advised  in  you  to  encourage 
her  assurance." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  aunt,"  replied  Grace  Campbell,  bow- 
ing her  head  with  affected  deference,  "  for  possessing  me  of 
Mrs.  Norton;s  views  of  my  conduct :  and  now,  my  dear  madam," 
she  added,  turning  to  Mrs.  Norton,  "  pray  do  not  withhold 
from  me  your  own  expression  of  your  golden  opinion." 

Mrs.  Norton  had  strong  motives  for  keeping  well  with  Mrs. 
Campbell :  she  was  conscious  that  the  lady's  fortune,  fashion, 
and  talents  placed  her  in  the  first  class,  let  her  make  that  class 
as  small  as  she  would.  She  had  been  excessively  provoked  at 
Mrs.  Campbell's  contempt,  or,  at  best,  indifference  for  her,  but, 
having  no  alternative,  she  made  to  herself  a  great  merit  of  for- 
giveness ;  obliged  to  suppress  her  wrath  against  Miss  Campbell, 
she  meant  to  indemnify  herself  by  wreaking  her  vengeance  on 
the  innocent  stranger,  and  when  she  spoke,  she  spoke  calmly, 
but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  Ellen. 

"  Miss  Grace,"  she  said,  "  there  is  much  excuse  for  one 
who  is  ignorant  of  the  presumption  of  the  common  people : 
you  have  lived  for  the  most  part  in  town,  where  you  did  not 
come  in  contact  with  them." 

"  Yes — unfortunately,  Mrs.  Norton,  but  I  have  now  and 
then  taken  a  trip  to  the  country,  and  indemnified  myself  for 
the  privation.  There  is  nothing  in  life  so  tiresome  to  me  as 
the  endless  Inanities  of  the  genteel  gentlemen  and  ladies  one 
meets  for  ever  in  town — we  flatter  one  another's  prejudices — we 
adopt  one  another's  opinions  and  tastes  and  habits  till  every 
thing  individual  and  peculiar  is  gone — we  are  all  formed  in 
the  same  mould,  and  all  receive  the  same  impression — pure 
gold  and  base  copper — all  must  bear  the  same  stamp  to  be 
current  coin.  It  is  a  refreshment  to  me  to  see  the  nati'.ral 
character  as  it  is  developed  in  the  strong  peculiarities  one 
13* 


298  REDWOOD. 

meets  in  the  country.  I  love  the  common  people — an  unpar- 
donable sin  it  may  be,  Mrs.  Norton,  but  I  do  love  them — I 
love  to  see  the  undisciplined  movements  of  natural  feeling — I 
sympathize  with  their  unaffected  griefs — I  love  to  witness  their 
hearty  pleasures — I  had  rather  receive  the  expression  of  their 
cordial  goo*d  will,  than  the  compliments  of  a  successful  winter's 
campaign" — 

"  For  heaven's  sake  tell  me,  cousin  Grace,"  said  a  gentle- 
man who  was  standing  near  to  her,  "  are  you  addressing  this 
tirade  in  favor  of  rusticity  to  Mrs.  Norton  or  to  Howard  ?" 

A  deep  blush  suffused  Miss  Campbell's  cheeks :  she  was 
Ofjo/jfcious  that  though  she  had  in  the  onset  addressed  herself  to 
Mrs.  Norton,  she  had  involuntarily,  and  in  obedience  to  the 
impulse  of  sympathy,  directed  her  eyes  to  Howard.  The  blush 
was  followed  by  a  beautiful  smile,  as  she  replied  to  her  cousin 
— "  Is  it  strange,  "William,  that  my  enthusiasm  in  behalf  of 
the  contemned  and  neglected  should  impel  my  eyes  instinc- 
tively to  a  Howard  ?" 

"  Beware  instinct,  Howard — instinct  is  a  great  matter," 
whispered  young  Armstead,  and  added  aloud,  "  do  not  bow  so 
like  simple  Mr.  Slender,  as  if  you  believed  every  word  of  that 
rattle-brained  cousin  of  mine.  She  has  drank  a  draught  of 
sentiment  this  morning  on  these  romantic  hills  ;  but  this  love 
of  the  country  and  its  sweet  simplicity  is  not  her  first  love : 
she  will  return  to  town,  and  run  the  course  of  fashion  and  folly 
$with  the  swiftest  of  her  rivals." 

"  For  shame,  my  son :  I  will  not  suffer  your  insinuations 
against  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Armstead ;  "  I  am  sure  she  was 
never  fond  of  dissipation." 

"  Oh  no,  my  dear  mother  ;  dissipation  is  a  self-denying  or- 
dinance with  Grace ;  and  the  admiration  of  half  the  men,  and 
the  envy  of  all  the  women,  are  her  voluntary  mortifications.1' 


REDWOOD,  299 

"  Ah,  Will,"  replied  Miss  Campbell.  "  you  are  a  snarler — 
a  predestined  old  bachelor — but  you  shall  see  that  I  will  deny 
the  world  and  all  ungodliness — forswear  your  company,  and 
live  soberly  in  this  present  life." 

"  I  am  certain  Miss  Campbell  has  the  ability  to  verify  the 
prophecy  she  utters,"  said  Howard. 

"  I  see  it  is  all  in  vain,  my  good  friends,"  retorted  young 
Armstead.  assuming  the  gravity  of  a  sage  ;  "  you  pour  in  your 
poisons  faster  than  I  can  administer  my  antidotes  ;  so  go  on, 
and  in  a  few  years  you  will  drive  my  cousin  Grace,  in  spite  of 
her  good  sense,  into  the  rank  of  the  infallibles :  our  dear 
mother  would  even  now  persuade  you,  Grace,  as  the  worthy 
Bishop  Hoadley  said,  '  not  that  you  cannot  err,  but  that  you 
do  not  err.'  " 

"  My  good  aunt's  blindness  is  not  likely  to  prove  fatal  to 
me  while  I  have  so  clear-sighted  a  cousin,  who,  with  one  keen 
glance  of  his  eye,  can  pierce  the  fog  of  vanity.  But  here, 
William,  comes  a  newer  if  not  fairer  subject  for  your  sharp- 
shooting." 

All  eyes  were  now  directed  to  the  door,  and  Deborah 
entered. 

The  pause  occasioned  by  her  entrance  gave  Mrs.  Norton 
an  opportunity  to  speak,  and  obliged  others  to  listen  to  her. 
She  poured  forth  many  wise  maxims  upon  the  necessity  of 
jealously  guarding  the  few  distinctions  of  rank  that  remain 
among  us,  and  concluded  with  the  condescending  declaration, 
that  she  always  made  it  a  point  to  speak  to  persons  she  met  at 
an  inn,  but  she  took  good  care  they  should  understand,  '  thus 
far  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther.1 

Young  Armstead  ventured  to  express  a  fear  that  the  wave 
of  the  multitude  would  be  too  strong  for  her  supreme  com- 
mand ;  but  for  the  most  part  the  good  lady  talked  without 


30C  REDWOOD. 

being  heeded.  Every  eye  seemed  fixed  on  Deborah,  who  on 
entering  had  given  a  good-natured  nod  to  the  Armstead  party, 
and  had  proceeded  in  her  operations  with  as  much  nonchalance 
as  if  she  had  been  in  her  own  little  bedroom  at  home,  and 
mistress  of  all  she  surveyed.  She  walked  up  to  a  small  look- 
ing-glass— threw  aside  her  bonnet,  and  began  smoothing  her 
refractory  locks  with  a  pocket-comb,  while  she  recounted  to 
Ellen,  in  her  homeliest  phrase,  and  with  all  the  exultation  of  a 
victor,  her  success  in  securing  the  best  hospitalities  of  the 
manger  for  her  good  steed,  and  boasted  that  like  a  faithful 
mistress  she  had  insisted  on  being  an  eye-witness  of  his  accom- 
modations. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Ellen  felt  a  little  disturbed  at 
the  ludicrous  figure  her  companion  made  in  the  eyes  of  the 
fashionable  party  who  were  observing  her.  She  perceived  that 
the  mirth  of  the  young  people  was  only  kept  within  decent 
limits  by  the  gravity  of  their  elders,  and  that  gravity  was 
maintained  by  a  difficult  effort.  She  averted  her  eyes  and 
looked  out  of  the  window,  when  Deborah,  who  had  finished  her 
toilet,  and  was  surveying  some  pictures  that  garnished  the 
walls,  again  exacted  her  attention. 

"  For  &e  land's  sake,  Ellen,"  she  said,  "  come  and  look  at 
these  picturs,  and  tell  me  what  this  means — here  is  something 
that  puzzles  me  ;"  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  an  embroidered 
Hector  and  Andromache,  the  fruit  of  at  least  three  months' 

labor  of  one  of  the  young  lady  artists  of  the  inn. 

§ 
^rThat  man,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  Trojan  hero,  "is 

dressed  in  the  uniform  of  the  Connecticut  reg'lars,  at  least  it 
is  as  much  like  that  as  any  thing,  and  I  take  it  to  be  the  like- 
ness of  Col.  Smith.  I  remember  he  had  a  wife  and  one  child, 
and  he  parted  from  them  just  before  the  battle  of  Garmautown, 
where  he  lost  his  life,  and  a  great  many  other  brave  fellows 


REDWOOD.  301 

that  have  never  been  stitched  into  a  pictur,  lost  theirs  too 
It's  always  your  generals  and  colonels  that  get  all  the  profit 
and  Jnonor  while  they  live,  and  the  glory  when  they  are  gone, 
while  the  poor  fellows  that  suffer  hunger  and  cold  die,  and  are 
never  named  nor  thought  of.  But  what  signifies  it !  for  the 
'  same  event  happeneth  to  all,'  as  Solomon  says." 

"  And  it  is  the  honest  life  that  precedes  the  '  event,'  and 
not  the  honor  which  follows  it,  that  makes  all  the  difference," 
'said  Miss  Campbell,  advancing  to  Deborah,  and  entering  into 
her  feelings  with  evident  pleasure. 

"  Very  true,  Miss. — and  very  well  said,"  replied  Debby, 
heartily.  "  May  be,  .Miss,"  she  added,  with  an  earnest  man- 
ner, which  indicated  that  a  very  slight  observation  of  Miss 
Campbell  had  inspired  a  great  respect  for  her  powers,  "  may 
be,  Miss,  you  can  help  Ellen  explain  these  outlandish  names 
that  puzzle  me.  I  am  sure  there  was  not  in  all  the  Connecti- 
cut reg'lars  such  a  name  as  Hector,  and  as  to  the  other,  I  can't 
make  any  thing  out  of  it." 

"  They  are  fancy  names,  I  imagine,"  said  Ellen,  willing  to 
avoid  an  explanation. 

Deborah  passed  on  to  a  coarse  engraving  of  Solomon's  tem- 
ple, which  she  gazed  on  with  at  least  as  honest  a  rapture  as  a 
connoisseur  would  have  felt  at  the  cartoons  of  Raphael.  She 
commented  on  its  length,  breadth,  and  depth,  with  critical  ac- 
curacy, observed  the  number  of  porches,  pillars,  windows,  and 
doors,  and  concluded  with  expressing  her  delight  that  she  had 
"  at  last  seen  a  picture  of  old  King  Solomon's  temple." 

Deborah  poured  forth  her  comments  without  heeding  the 
whispers,  the  stares,  and  smiles  that  her  oddity  excited  ;  but  El- 
len saw  and  heard  all ;  and  more  pained  that  her  honest  friend 
should  be  the  subject  of  ridicule,  than  mortified  on  her  own 
account,  she  drew  her  out  of  the  room  into  the  little  piazza  in 


302  REDWOOD. 

front  of  the  house,  and  earnestly  recommended  their  proceed- 
ing on  their  journey  immediately.  Her  arguments  however 
had  no  weight  with  Deborah  ;  but  while  she  still  urged  tkem, 
their  attention  was  attracted  by  an  alarming  outcry.  The 
cause  of  it  was  at  once  obvious.  A  chaise  had  been  overset  in 
the  village  street,  the  horse  was  running  with  the  broken  vehi- 
cle at  his  heels  at  full  speed,  while  half  a  score  of  men  were 
in  breathless  pursuit ;  a  little  child  stood  in  the  road  before 
the  door,  his  danger  was  apparent,  and  his  destruction  seemed 
inevitable :  the  party  in  the  house  joined  their  cries  to  ihose  in 
the  street,  while  a  voice  of  terror  and  agony  loud  above  all  the 
rest,  screamed,  "  my  child,  my  child  !"  The  horse  received  a 
new  impetus  from  these  frightful  screams,  while  the  little  fel- 
low stood  facing  the  danger  quite  unappalled,  and  resolutely 
threw  his  hat  at  the  horse. 

Deborah  and  Ellen  darted  forward  at  the  same  instant — 
Deborah  attempted  to  stop  the  horse  :  she  failed  in  that,  but 
the  force  of  her  arm  turned  him  aside  from  his  course,  while 
Ellen  snatched  the  child,  and  turning,  placed  it  in  the  arms  of 
its  mother,  who  had  just  reached  the  door,  and  trembling,  al- 
most fainting,  extended  them  to  receive  her  child.  This  was 
all  the  work  of  an  instant.  The  whole  party  from  the  parlor 
now  surrounded  Deborah  and  Ellen. 

Mrs.  Armstead,  (for  she  was  the  mother,)  as  soon  as  she 
had  tranquillized  her  feelings  sufficiently  to  speak,  overwhelmed 
the  preservers  of  her  child  with  expressions  of  gratitude.  The 
brothers  and  sisters  crowded  about,  and  embraced  the  little 
boy,  who  seemed  to  wonder  why  he  had  caused  such  emotion  ; 
— while  Miss  Campbell  advancing  to  Ellen,  and  gracefully 
offering  her  hand,  said  that  her  '•  little  'scape-death  cousin  had 
obtained  for  her  the  right  to  beg  the  name  and  acquaintance 
of  her  whose  kind  intervention  had  saved  his  life."  She  pro- 


REDWOOD  303 

ceeded  to  lavish  praises  on  Ellen  for  her  prompt  courage ;  but 
Ellen  modestly  declined  them,  saying,  she  had  been  impelled 
by  instinct  to  the  action,  and  was  quite  unconscious  of  any 
danger  till  it  was  past. 

The  ice  being  thus  broken,  the  young  ladies,  after  discuss- 
ing every  particular  of  the  '  hair-breadth  'scape,'  proceeded  to 
an  animated  conversation  on  various  subjects,  which  elicited 
the  characters  of  each,  and  inspired  them  with  mutual  admira- 
tion. Perhaps  they  liked  each  other  the  better,  because,  though 
there  was  a  general  agreement  between  them  in  tastes  and  sen- 
timents, there  was  a  striking  difference  in  some  particulars. 
Ellen's  manners,  without  any  of  the  awkwardness  or  gaucherie 
of  bashfulness  or  ignorance,  were  timid,  and,  with  strangers, 
rather  reserved  and  retiring ;  while  Miss  Campbell  had  the 
assured  air  of  one  who  has  held  a  high  command  in  society, 
and  whose  right  and  habit  it  was  to  take  the  lead  in  the  world 
of  fashion.  Ellen,  with  one  of  the  sweetest  voices  in  the 
world,  talked  in  rather  a  low  tone — the  style  of  her  conversa- 
tion was  unambitious  and  simple,  and  though  it  often  took  a 
rich  coloring  from  the  bright  rays  of  genius  and  feeling, 
like  those  glowing  hues  which  fall  on  the  summer  land- 
scape, and  which  no  contrivance  of  art  can  produce  or  im- 
itate, there  was  nothing  said  to  court  attention  or  excite  admi- 
ration. 

Miss  Campbell  talked  rather  loud,  and  with  spirit  and  flu- 
ency ;  she  had  the  fearless  manner  of  one  who  has  often  felt 
her  own  power,  and  the  weakness  of  others :  she  dashed  on 
like  an  impetuous  stream,  disdaining  obstruction  and  careless 
of  opposition.  She  had  evidently  been  accustomed  to  occupy 
the  foreground  of  the  picture,  to  be  the  primary  object  of 
attention.  She  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the 
feeling  that  suffused  Ellen's  face  with  blushes,  and  imparted 


304  REDWOOD. 

tremulousness  to  her  voice,  when  she  found  herself  the  object 
of  an  admiring  observation.  Miss  Campbell  had  been  so  ac- 
customed to  the  homage  of  society,  that  the  excitement  had 
become  as  necessary  to  her  as  the  applause  of  an  audience  to 
a  popular  actor.  In  the  midst  of  her  most  animated  and  elo- 
quent sallies,  her  eye  would  glance  rapidly  around  her  circle  of 
auditors,  to  catch  new  inspiration  from  the  silent  tribute  of 
their  enchained  attention.  With  these  faults  she  had  such  a 
fund  of  good  sense,  such  invincible  good-humor  and  unaffected 
benevolence,  that  she  commanded  the  love,  the  respect  even  of 
those  who  were  most  sensible  of  her  imperfections.  Her  vir- 
tues were  her  own,  the  luxuriant  growth  of  a  rich  soil ;  her 
faults  the  result  of  accident,  the  weeds  permitted  by  neglect, 
or  introduced  by  improper  cultivation.  Miss  Campbell  was 
not  a  regular  beauty,  but  her  graceful  person  and  fine  expres- 
sion gave  to  her  the  effect  of  beauty. 

Mrs.  Armstead,  her  aunt,  resided  in  Philadelphia,  and  was 
on  a  jaunt  to  Boston  by  the  way  of  Lebanon  Springs.  Mrs. 
Norton  was  an  old  acquaintance  and  distant  relation,  whom 
she  had  met  accidentally.  Mr.  Howard  had  been  introduced 
by  young  Armstead  into  his  mother's  family  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore they  left  home,  and  recommended  to  their  regard  as  an 
old  college  friend  from  Boston. 

This  introduction  is  necessary  to  our  readers,  but  even 
these  concise  particulars  are  more  than  our  travellers  ascer- 
tained of  their  new  friends.  The  little  boy  who  had  been  res- 
cued seemed  to  have  been  struck  by  the  manly  genius  of  Debo- 
rah, and  attached  himself  to  her — and  the  whole  party,  with 
the  exception  of  Mrs.  Norton,  were  emulous  of  showing  civility 
to  Deborah,  and  admiration  of  Miss  Bruce.  Mrs.  Armstead, 
anxious  to  improve  her  brief  opportunity  of  expressing  her 
gratitude,  lavished  her  attentions  on  Ellen,  placed  her  next 


REDWOOD.  305 

herself  at  table,  and  melted  away  all  reserve  by  the  warmth  of 
her  kindness. 

The  dinner  being  over,  preparations  were  made  for  the 
departure  of  all  parties.  Deborah's  primitive-looking  chaise 
and  respectable  old  horse,  were  led  to  the  door  in  the  rear 
of  Mrs.  Armstead's  elegant  carriage,  which,  with  the  dash- 
ing gig  and  tandem  of  her  son,  and  the  horses  of  their  out- 
riders, effectually  '  stopped  the  way.'  "While  the  servants  were 
adjusting  some  light  baggage,  dried  fruits  and  cakes  for  the 
young  people,  the  late  publications  for  their  elders,  &c.,  &c.. 
Miss  Campbell  said  to  Ellen,  "  you  must  allow  me  to  borrow  a 
New  England  phrase,  to  ask  whither  you  are  'journeying?'  we 
cannot  part  from  you  without  the  hope  at  least  of  meeting 
again." 

"  It  is  not  impossible  we  may,"  replied  Ellen,  "  for  my  com- 
panion has  just  announced  to  me,  that  if  we  are  successful  in 
attaining  the  object  of  our  coming  to  this  vicinity,  she  intends 
visiting  Lebanon  springs  for  a  few  days.'-' 

"  Successful  or  not  successful,  Ellen,"  interrupted  Deborah, 
"  I  shall  go  to  the  pool,  for  I  hear  those  waters  are  a  master- 
cure  for  the  rheumatis." 

"  Oh,  I  am  told  quite  equal  to  Bethesda,"  said  Miss  Camp- 
bell ;  "  and  as  you  take  along  with  you  an  angel  to  .trouble 
them,  you  may  be  sure  of  experiencing  their  efficacy.  But, 
seriously,  Miss  Bruce,  I  hope  no  consideration  will  deter  you : 
we  are  to  linger  in  the  adjacent  villages  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
then  go  to  Lebanon,  and  I  am  certain  that  if  we  are  so  happy 
as  to  meet  you  there,  my  aunt  will  insist  on  your  attaching 
yourselves  to  our  party." 

"  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  you  anticipate  my  wishes 
— you  would,  indeed,  Miss  Bruce,  do  me  a  great  favor  by 
enrolling  yourselves  in  my  party."  And  the  young  ladies 


306  REDWOOD. 

exclaimed,  "how  glad  I  shall  be — and  how  pleasant  it 
will  be." 

Ellen  gracefully  returned  her  thanks  to  each  and  all,  while 
Deborah,  quite  ignorant  of  the  tactics  of  the  polite  world,  com- 
prehended nothing  of  the  offered  civility,  but  that  it  was  meant 
in  kindness,  and  therefore  deserved  the  hearty  thanks  with 
which  she  replied  to  it. 

"  Come,  my  dear  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  we  must 
dispatch  this  leave-taking ;  every  thing,  I  see,  is  in  readiness." 

"  Our  friends,"  said  Miss  Campbell,  "  must  start  first.  Be 
good  enough,  William,  to  order  the  servant  to  lead  forward 
Miss  Lenox's  horse.  I  am  sure,"  she  added,  smiling,  "  his  age 
and  virtues  entitle  him  to  precedence." 

The  two  parties  now  proceeded  to  make  their  adieus ;  and 
the  young  ladies  each,  as  they  took  Ellen's  hand,  slipped  on 
her  finger  a  ring,  which  they  begged  her  to  take  for  a  keepsake. 

The  little  boy,  watchful  of  every  thing  concerning  his  new 
friends,  observed  this — he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  net  purse, 
through  the  interstices  of  which  shone  a  golden  guinea,  and 
swelling  with  manly  pride,  he  offered  it  to  Deborah. 

Deborah  patted  him  on  the  head,  called  him  a  young  prince, 
said  his  life  was  worth  saving,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  she 
handed  the  purse  to  his  mother. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Miss  Lenox,"  sajd  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  you  must 
keep  it;  indeed,  it  would  quite  break  my  little  boy's  heart  if 
you  despised  his  gift." 

"  Despise  it,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Deborah,  surveying  it  witL 
unfeigned  delight.  "  I  was  never  the  owner  of  a  golden  gui- 
nea in  my  life,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  an  imposition  to  take 
it — but  I  shall  take  good  care  of  it,"  and  she  carefully  deposit- 
ed it  in  her  pocket,  adding,  "  Mr.  John,  your  guinea  will  seldom 
see  daylight  while  I  live." 


REDWOOD.  307 

The  last  parting  words  were  said — the  last  kind  looks  re- 
ciprocated, and  all  parties  arranging  themselves  in  their  own 
places,  Deborah  drove  off  in  one  direction,  and  Mrs.  Armstead 
and  her  suite  in  another.  As  the  children  stretched  their 
necks  out  of  the  carriage  to  send  their  last  lingering  look  to- 
wards the  old  chaise  and  the  humble  Rosiuante  that  drew  it 
heavily  along,  Mrs.  Armstead  remarked,  "  how  little  the  young 
and  the  truly  wise  estimate  that  which  is  essentially  good  and 
lovely  by  external  appearances." 

"As  I  cannot  in  conscience,  my  dear  aunt,"  said  Miss 
Campbell,  "  take  a  place  in  either  of  those  classes,  being  not 
very  young,  and  certainly  not  belonging  to  the  '  select  few'  of 
the  '  truly  wise,'  I  must  investigate  the  cause  of  my  prompt 
admiration  of  our  new  acquaintance."  She  shook  her  head 
after  a  moment's  deliberation,  and  added,  "  I  can  take  no 
praise  to  myself,  for  that  charming  Miss  Bruce  is  a  self-evi- 
dent lady — and  her  companion — an  exception  to  all  rules — a 
rude,  capital  piece  of  nature — a  specimen  for  a  philosopher's 
museum." 

"  And  I  rather  think,  Grace,"  said  young  Armstead,  (who 
had  taken  his  sister's  place  in  the  carriage,)  "  you  were  not 
sorry  to  have  an  opportunity  of  giving  to  our  cousin  Norton 
a  practical  instance  of  your  contempt  of  her  aristocracy — and 
of  manifesting  to  another  observer  your  elevation  above  the 
prejudices  of  society." 

Miss  Campbell  did  not  notice  the  last  clause  of  her  cousin's 
sentence  except  by  a  slight  blush :  she  pleaded  guilty  to  the 
desire  of  mortifying  the  baseless  pride  of  Mrs.  Norton. 
"  There  was  nothing,"  she  said,  "  more  essentially  vulgar  than 
the  consequence  that  betrayed,  by  its  perpetual  vigilance  and 
jealousy,  a  consciousness  that  there  existed  no  intrinsic  supe- 
riority— an  exclusive  bigoted  spirit  ought  not  to  receive  any 


308  REDWOOD. 

toleration  in  our  society — it  was  opposed  to  the  genius  and 
tendencies  of  every  thing  about  us — we  were  happily  exempt 
from  the  servitude  of  oriental  castes,  and  the  scarcely  less  ar- 
bitrary classifications  of  more  liberal  countries.  Superior 
talents — education — manners — the  habits  of  refined  life,  were 
the  only  distinctions  that  ought  to  obtain  among  us,  and  they 
were  quite  obvious." 

"  Ah,  coz,  I  see  how  it  is.  Like  the  Duchess  of  Gordon, 
who  replied  to  the  managers  of  the  city  assembly  at  New- 
York,  when  they  apologized  for  not  being  able  to  offer  her  the 
precedence  to  which  her  rank  entitled  her,  '  never  mind,  gen- 
tlemen, wherever  I  am,  there  is  the  Duchess  of  Gordon.'  Like 
her  Grace,  you  are  satisfied  that  Miss  Campbell's  is  the  first 
place — that  this  modern  heraldry  of  merit  will  always  give  her 
precedence." 

"  Thank  you,  William,  for  your  generous  personal  applica- 
tion of  my  principles — you  need  not  shake  your  head — I  am 
in  no  danger  of  mistaking  any  thing  you  say  to  me  for  a  com- 
pliment." .'.*• 

"Believe  me,  Grace,"  replied  her  cousin,  affectionately 
taking  her  hand,  "  I  never  was  in  more  imminent  danger  of 
joining  my  voice  to  the  choral  song  of  your  flatterers.  I  sym- 
pathize entirely  in  your  desire  to  dissipate  the  illusions  of  our 
conceited  and.  thank  Heaven,  '  far-off '  cousin  Norton — in  your 
admiration  of  our  new  acquaintance  and  in  some  other  ncu- 
feelings,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  that 
are  getting  the  mastery  in  your  heart — and  I  pray  Heaven  youx 
may  always  show  yourself  as  entirely  superior  to  the  adventi- 
tious distinctions  of  the  world,  as  with  your  character  you 
may  afford  to  do." 

"  A  bona  fide  compliment  from  William  Armstead  ! — Saul 
among  the  prophets  !"  exclaimed  Grace  Campbell. 


REDWOOD.  309 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 

'  E  y  a  dans  1'aspect  de  la  contre"e  quelque  chose  de  calme  et  de  doux 
qui  prepare  1'ame  a  sortir  des  agitations  de  la  vie." — MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

IT  was  a  fine  afternoon  in  the  month  of  August  when  our 
travellers  passed  the  romantic  road  which  traverses  the  moun- 
tain that  forms  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  valley  of  Han- 
cock. The  varied  pleasures  they  had  enjoyed  during  the  day, 
and  the  excitement  of  drawing  near  to  the  object  of  their  long 
journey,  animated  them  both  with  unusual  spirits.  Deborah's 
tongue  was  voluble  in  praise  of  the  rich  farms  that  spread  out 
on  the  declivities  of  the  hills,  or,  embosomed  in  the  protected 
valleys,  called  forth,  as  they  deserved,  the  enthusiastic  com- 
mendations of  our  experienced  rustic.  Ellen  listened  in  si- 
lence while  she  gazed  with  the  eye  of  an  amateur  upon  this 
beautiful  country,  which  possesses  all  the  elements  of  the'pic- 
turesque.  Green  hills  crowned  with  flourishing  villages — vil- 
lage spires  rising  just  where  they  should  rise  ;  for  the  scene  is 
nature's  temple,  and  the  altar  should  be  there — lakes  sparkling 
like  gems  in  the  distant  valleys — Saddle  Mountain  lifting  his 
broad  shoulders  to  the  northern  sky,  and  the  Catskills  defining 
with  their  blue  and  misty  outline  the  western  horizon. 

A  sudden  exclamation  from  Deborah  fixed  Ellen's  atten- 
tion to  one  spot  in  the  wide-spread  landscape.     "  As  I  live," 


310  REDWOOD. 

she  said,  "  there  is  the  very  place  at  last — see,  Ellen,  the  yel- 
low houses  they  told  us  of." 

Ellen  turned  her  eye  to  the  long  line  of  habitations  of  a 
uniform  color  and  appearance,  which,  stretching  along  the 
plain  and  sheltered  by  the  surrounding  hills,  seem  sequestered 
from  the  world,  and  present  an  aspect  of  peace  and  comfort,  if 
not  of  happiness. 

"  Ellen,  as  others  have  done,  wondered  that  this  strange 
people,  who  in  their  austere  judgment  would  condemn  the  de- 
light that  springs  from  natural  beauty  as  the  gratification  of 
the  '  lust  of  the  eye,'  should  have  selected  a  spot  of  such  pe- 
culiar charms 

"  Ah,"  said  Debby,  as  her  eye  wandered  over  the  stubble- 
fields  and  the  rich  crops  that  were  yet  unreaped,  "  these  are 
knowing  people — they  understand  their  temporals — they  have 
chosen  their  land  well." 

'  Then,'  thought  Ellen,  '  it  may  be  that  the  maxim,  the 
'  useful  is  the  beautiful,'  holds  good  in  relation  to  our  mother 
earth,  and  that  she  lavishes  her  smiles  upon  those  of  her  loyal 
children  who  seek  her  favors  :  sure  I  am,  no  professed  admi- 
rers of  the  beauties  of  nature — no  connoisseur  in  all  the 
charms  of  the  various  combinations  of  mountain  and  valley, 
pastupe  nills  and  rich  meadows,  dashing  streams  and  q-iiet 
lakes,  could  have  selected  a  more  beautiful  residence  than 
this.' 

Her  meditations  were  suddenly  cut  short  by  another^  ex- 
clamation from  Deborah,  who  had  now  turned  an  angle  in  the 
road  and  entered  the  village  street. 

"  Well,  if  this  does  not  beat  all !  Just  look  here.  Ellen, 
at  this  little  bright  stream,"  and  she  pointed  to  a  small  rivulet 
that  sparkled  like  a  chain  of  burnished  silver  in  the  sunbeams  ; 
"  see  where  it  comes  racing  down  the  hill  yonder,  and  here, 


REDWOOD.  311 

where  it  crosses  the  street,  it  darts  under  ground  as  if  to  hide 
its  capers  from  these  solemn  people — the  thing  has  sense 
in  it." 

Ellen  smiled,  and  asked  "  if  it  would  not  be  well  to  imitate 
its  discretion,  and  inquire  at  which  house  they  should  find  the 
elder  sister  Susan  ?" 

Deborah  immediately  stopped  her  horse,  and  waited  for  the 
coming  up  of  one  of  the  brethren,  who  was  approaching  them 
from  an  adjoining  field.  She  spent  the  few  moments  of  wait- 
ing in  admiring  the  large  richly-stocked  garden,  without  weeds 
or  waste  places,  the  fine  stone-posts  to  the  fences,  the  neatly 
sawn  wood,  piled  with  mathematical  exactness,  the  clean  swept 
street,  and  all  the  neat  arrangements  of  the  Shaker  economy, 
so  striking  to  an  eye  accustomed  only  to  the  slipshod  ways  of 
our  country  people. 

In  the  meanwhile  Ellen  was  looking  eagerly  at  the  win- 
dows of  a  large  house  near  which  they  had  halted,  to  discern, 
if  possible,  the  well-known  features  of  Susan  or  Emily  on  any 
of  the  sisters  who,  as  they  passed  the  windows  like  shadows, 
stole  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  travellers. 

When  the  man  had  arrived  within  speaking  distance,  De- 
borah asked,  '  if  she  would  be  so  good  as  to  direct  her  where 
she  could  find  Susan  Allen.' 

"  Yea,"  he  replied,  "  she  dwells  there  ;"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  large  house  Ellen  was  surveying. 

"  Is  she  at  home  ?"  asked  Deborah. 

"  Yea.  I  believe  so." 

Either  Deborah's  imagination  was  busy,  or  her  sagacity  de- 
tected more  meaning  in  the  man's  face  than  was  expressed  in 
his  brief  answers.  "  Is  Susan  sick  ?"  she  asked,  hastily. 

"  If  ye  have  business  with  her  ye  can  inquire  for  her  at 
the  house,"  was  all  the  reply  vouchsafed. 


312  REDWOOD. 

"  Much  thanks  for  his  information,"  said  Debby,  who  felt 
too  conscious  of  the  liberty  of  free  inquiry  at  all  times  and 
places,  to  need  the  permission'  granted  in  a  manner  so  surly. 
They  stopped  at  the  house  designated,  and  were  admitted  by 
one  of  the  sisters,  who,  in  reply  to  their  inquiry  for  Susan 
Allen,  said,  after  a  little  hesitation,  that  "  she  was  not  right 
well,  and  would  not  be  able,  she  believed,  to  see  strangers." 

"  Can  we,  then,"  asked  Ellen,  "  see  Emily  Allen  ?" 

"  Emily  Allen  !"  exclaimed  the  sister,  put  a  little  off  her 
guard  by  surprise,  and  then,  after  a  momentary  pause,  and 
without  making  any  explanations,  she  added,  "  I  will  acquaint 
elder  sister  that  there  are  strangers  here — if  she  knows  who 
you  are  she  may  choose  to  see  ye — be  pleased  to  give  me  your 
names."  They  gave  them,  and  added  an  earnest  request  that 
Susan  would  see  them. 

.She  had  scarcely  given  Deborah  and  Ellen  time  to  inter- 
change their  mutual  apprehensions,  ere  she  returned  and  bade 
them  follow  her.  She  led  them  up  stairs  and  through  a  long 
passage  to  the  elder  sister's  apartment,  only  distinguished  from 
the  others  by  being  larger  and  more  commodious.  Their  con- 
ductor showed  them  into  the  room,  and  then  left  them,  closing 
the  door  after  her. 

Susan  was  seated  with  her  back  to  the  door.  On  hearing  it 
close  she  rose  from  her  chair  with  apparent  effort,  like  one  en- 
feebled by  disease,  and  advanced  towards  Deborah  and  Ellen. 
Her  face  was  ghastly  pale,  but  there  was  no  other  sign  of  emo- 
tion. She  gave  a  hand  to  each  of  her  visitors,  and  said,  faintly, 
"  ye  are  welcome — sit  down,  sit  down."  They  obeyed  her.  and 
she  reseated  herself ;  a  dead  silence  followed — even  Deborah, 
fearless  as  she  was,  was  awed  into  the  deference  of  a  moment- 
ary silence  by  the  imposing  solemnity  of  Susan's  deportment. 
It  was  but  for  a  moment,  for  her  courage  flowing  back,  "  what 


REDWOOD.  313 

signifies  it  ?"  said  she ;  an  expression  that,  with  her,  always 
signified  the  utter  demolition  of  all  barriers  that  opposed  her 
purpose  :  "  what  signifies  it — we  may  as  well  come  to  it  first  as 
last ;  what  has  happened  to  Emily  ?" 

"  Emily  is  gone,"  replied  Susan,  in  a  deep,  low  tone,  her 
eyes  downcast,  and  her  whole  person  fixed  in  statue-like 
stillness. 

"  Gone  !"  echoed  Deborah  and  Ellen  in  the  same  breath  ; 
"  how — what  is  it  you  mean — she  is  not  dead,  surely  ?" 

"  Would  to  God  she  had  died,"  replied  Susan,  clasping  her 
hands  and  raising  her  eyes,  from  which  the  tears  now  flowed 
freely:  "  would  to  God  she  had  died — in  the  faith."  Terrify- 
ing and  incomprehensible  as  were  Susan's  words,  neither  De- 
borah nor  Ellen  ventured  another  question.  There  was  some- 
thing so  strange  and  unnatural  in  her  convulsive  emotion,  that 
it  affected  them  as  if  a  being  that  had  passed  the  bounds  of 
human  feeling,  should  wake  again  to  the  pangs  of  mortal 
suffering. 

After  some  moments  of  '  strong  crying  and  tears,'  she  said, 
"  I  could  have  looked  on  and  seen  the  breath  of  life  leave  her 
body,  and  yet  have  said  with  the  Shunammite  woman,  '  it  is 
well.'  I  could  have  laid  her  away  from  me  in  the  cold  earth, 
and  yet  felt  that  it  was  well  Yea — yea,  I  would  gladly  have 
given  her  up  to  Him  who  gave  her  to  me — but,"  she  added, 
shuddering,  "  I  have  lost  her  for  time,  and  for  eternity — this 
it  is  that  wrings  my  heart  with  such  grief -as  I  thought  never 
to  have  felt  again." 

Ellen  was  filled  with  frightful  apprehensions  for  Emily's 
fate,  and  yet  she  knew  not  how  to  frame  an  inquiry  about  her. 
Even  Deborah  could  not  rally  courage  to  hasten  an  explana- 
tion :  she  walked  to  the  window  desirous  to  conceal  the  feeling 
she  could  neither  control  nor  express  ;  but  the  frequent  appli- 
14 


314  REDWOOD. 

cation  of  her  handkerchief  to  her  nose  made  the  honest  crea- 
ture's sympathy  quite  audible. 

It  was  not  long  before  Susan  recovered  a  degree  of  com- 
posure that  enabled  her  to  relieve  the  impatient  anxiety  of  her 
visitors,  as  far  as  the  information  she  had  to  communicate 
could  relieve  it.  She  began  her  relation  with  the  fact  of  Emi- 
ly's clandestine  departure  with  Harrington.  She  had  herself 
first  learned  it  on  the  succeeding  morning,  when  she  returned 
from  Lebanon,  whither  she  had,  as  our  readers  may  remember, 
been  suddenly  summoned.  She  said  she  should  herself  have 
believed  that  Emily  had  not  been  a  party  to  Harrington's 
treachery.  She  should  have  been  sure  he  had  forced  her 
away,  but  that  she  remembered  the  child's  emotion  when  she 
parted  with  her,  and  the  mysterious  language  she  then  held, 
which  was  but  too  clearly  explained  by  the  event.  The  wiles 
of  Harrington,  or  rather,  she  said,  the  wiles  of  Satan  by  his  ser- 
vant Harrington,  had  been  too  much  for  the  poor  girl ;  she 
had  been  caught  in  the  toils,  but  she  thanked  God  she  had  not 
fallen  an  easy  prey. 

Ellen  inquired  if  nothing  had  been  heard  of  the  fugitives 
since  their  departure? 

"  Nothing. — One  of  the  brethren  had  been  dispatched  to 
Albany,  where,  they  had  reason  to  believe,  Harrington  meant 
to  put  into  execution  a  plan  to  defraud  the  society  of  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money.  It  was  now  the  third  day  since  Har- 
rington's departure,  and  on  the  next  day  they  expected  the 
return  of  their  agent,  and  it  was  more  than  probable  that  he 
would  bring  some  intelligence  of  the  fugitives.  But,  oh  Ellen  !" 
she  concluded,  i:  there  is  nothing  to  hope  for — there  is  nothing 
more  to  fear — the  worst  has  happened." 

Ellen  would  not  allow  the  case  to  be  desperate  ;  not  that 
she  could  see  any  rational  ground  for  favorable  expectations, 


REDWOOD.  315 

but  hope  is  the  happy  instinct  of  youth.  She  showed  Susan 
Emily's  letter  to  her  Eton  friends,  which  at  least  intimated  a 
wish  to  leave  the  society ;  she  hinted  at  the  attachment  she 
believed  Emily  to  have  cherished  for  James  Lenox,  and  she 
finished  with  expressing  the  belief  that  the  poor  girl  had  been 
the  innocent  dupe  of  Harrington's  artifices,  and  had  availed 
herself  of  his  departure,  as  affording  her  an  opportunity  of 
returning  to  her  friends. 

At  another  time  this  would  have  sounded  like  harsh  conso- 
lation to  Susan  ;  but  now,  in  comparison  with  what  she  feared, 
this  was  innocence  and  happiness,  and  she  eagerly  grasped  at 
Ellen's  suggestions.  "  God  grant  it  may  be  so  !  God  grant 
it !"  she  reiterated.  "  Oh  had  I  but  known,  Ellen,  that  it  was 
in  the  child's  heart  to  go  back  to  you,  I  would  have  given  her 
up.  It  would  have  tried  me,  but  oh  !  not  like  this.  It  would 
have  been  but  honestly  following  her  light,  and  though  but  a 
dim  one,  still  she  would  have  been  saved  from  this  utter  ruin  ; 
— and  now  if  I  could  believe  that  she  had  fallen  innocently,  I 
might  weep  for  her — yea,  I  must  weep  for  her — but  not  these 
bitter,  hopeless  tears." 

Ellen  entreated  her  to  mitigate  her  grief,  at  least  till  she 
had  more  certain  knowledge  of  the  motives  of  Emily's  depart- 
ure. Susan  evidently  felt  humbled  to  find  herself  the  subject 
of  the  compassionate  efforts  of  even  the  loveliest  of  the  world's 
people ;  but  she  yielded  insensibly  to  Ellen's  beneficent  influ- 
ence, and  even  admitted  that  there  was  some  consolation  in  her 
rational  suggestions. 

Deborah  had  tact  enough  to  perceive  this  was  too  delicate 
a  case  for  her  handling — quite  out  of  her  province,  and  beyond 
her  skill ;  and  therefore  she  had  remained  silent  till  she  perceiv- 
ed that  the  elder  sister  was  tranquillized,  and  that  Ellen  had 
expended  all  her  consolatory  arguments ;  she  then,  like  a  pru- 


316  REDWOOD. 

dent  officer,  thought  it  best  to  retreat  before  another  occasion 
for  action  should  discover  that  their  strength  was  exhausted, 
and  she  abruptly  proposed  their  departure.  Ellen,  grieved  to 
think  they  had  no  reason  for  delay,  assented ;  and  Susan,  who 
at  another  time  would  have  insisted  on  performing  the  rites  of 
hospitality  to  friends  that  she  both  valued  and  loved,  silently 
acquiesced,  probably  deeming  it  prudent  in  the  present  state 
of  her  feelings  to  exclude  every  exciting  cause.  This  caution 
would  seem  incompatible  with  strong  emotion ;  but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  caution  was  habitual  to  the  elder  sister — was 
virtue  in  her  estimation — and  was  essential  to  the  preservation 
of  her  influence  with  the  society,  and  had  yielded  for  a  short 
time  only  to  the  mastery  of  those  powerful  affections  over  which 
it  had  held  a  long  and  secure  dominion.  Such  an  exhibition 
of  her  feelings  as  that  into  which  she  had  been  surprised  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  Emily's  friends  would,  she  well  knew, 
in  the  view  of  her  brethren  and  sisters,  degrade  her  to  a  level 
far  below  the  frozen  summits  where  they  remained  secure,  re- 
garding with  equal  contempt  the  earthly  influences  that  bless 
and  fertilize,  or  ravage  and  destroy. 

Before  parting,  she  promised  to  dispatch  a  messenger  to 
Lebanon  Springs  (whither  Deborah  informed  her  that  she  and 
Ellen  were  going,  and  should  remain  for  a  few  days.)  with  any 
intelligence  that  she  might  receive  of  the  fugitives:  she  then 
summoned  one  of  the  sisters,  and  having  requested  her  to  pro- 
vide some  refreshments  for  her  friends,  she  bade  them  farewell 
with  her  usual  composure,  save  a  little  faltering  of  the  voice, 
and  trembling  of  the  lip. 

The  travellers  were  then  conducted  to  a  small  parlor,  where 
a  table  was  quickly  spread  for  their  entertainment.  It  was 
covered  with  a  cloth  of  the  purest  white  by  one  of  the  sisters, 
who  lingered  in  adjusting  it.  smoothing  down  the  folds,  pulling 


REDWOOD.  317 

it  first  on  one  side,  and  then  on  the  other,  till  this  artifice  of 
her  innocent  vanity  had  succeeded,  and  Deborah's  liberal 
praises  were  bestowed  on  the  delicate  manufacture  which  had 
employed  the  skill  and  taste  of  the  sisterhood. 

All  the  varieties  of  the  '  staff  of  life'  were  now  displayed : 
bread  made  of  the  finest  of  the  wheat,  interspersed  with  slices 
produced  from  the  native  Indian  corn,  which,  in  its  prepared 
state,  deserves  still  to  retain  the  poetical  epithet  of  golden  ;  next 
to  this  plate  were  placed  some  tempting  slices  of  the  sad-color- 
ed rye :  these  gifts  of  Ceres  were  so  perfect  in  their  kind,  that 
the  delicate  goddess  herself  might  have  banqueted  on  them : 
then  came  delicious  butter,  and  the  purest  honey — the  fruits  in 
season,  and  pies,  cakes,  and  sweetmeats,  accompanied  (it  may 
be  thought  somewhat  incongruously)  by  cJieese^  pickles,  and 
cider;  and  to  crown  all,  the  aromatic  teapot,  diffusing,  like  the 
censer  at  the  ancient  feasts,  its  fragrant  fumes  over  all  the 
board.  With  such  incitement,  what  mortal  with  mortal  senses 
would  have  slighted  the  fare  ? 

If  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  spirituelle  Ellen  Bruce,  after 
her  long  abstinence,  did  not  regard  this  repast  with  the  indif- 
ference of  a  heroine  of  the  old  romantic  school ;  and  Deborah, 
played  her  part  as  well  as  one  of  Homer's  heroes  might  have 
done,  had  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  sit  at  a  Shaking-Quaker 
tea-table.  She  was  yielding  to  the  hospitable  solicitations  of 
the  sister  in  attendance,  and  taking  her  fifth  cup  of  tea,  when 
Ellen  reminded  her  a  second  time  that  the  sun  was  fast  declin- 
ing, and  that,  without  dispatch,  they  should  be  overtaken  by 
the  night  before  they  reached  Lebanon.  Deborah's  appetite 
submitted  to  the  necessity  of  the  case,  and  our  travellers,  after 
thanking  their  kind  entertainer,  took  leave  of  her,  and  left  the 
village,  as  many  other  travellers  have  done,  with  a  grateful 
sense  of  the  hospitality  of  its  simple  inhabitants. 


318  REDWOOD 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  Say  from  whence  you  owe  this  strange  intelligence, 
Or  why  you  stop  our  way  with  such  prophetic  greetings  V 

MACBETH. 

ELLEN'S  mind  had  been  so  filled  with  commiseration  for  Susan, 
she  was  so  much  more  in  the  habit  of  attending  to  others'  feel- 
ings than  her  own,  that  until  she  had  turned  her  back  upon 
the  Shaker  village,  she  did  not  feel  the  full  weight  of  her  own 
disappointment  in  regard  to  Emily.  The  thought  of  old  Mrs. 
Allen's  grief,  and  the  most  gloomy  apprehensions  in  relation 
to  the  poor  girl's  destiny,  engrossed  her  thoughts,  and  pre- 
vented her  heeding  Deborah's  profound  remarks  on  the  "  pat- 
tern people,"  as  she  termed  them.  We  would  not  insinuate 
that  Deborah  herself  was  unmoved  by  Emily's  sorrowful  case : 
she  would  have  gone  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  have  served 
her,  or  any  other  fellow-creature  in  distress,  but  it  was  an  in- 
violable principle  with  her  '  never  to  cry  for  spilt  milk.'  After 
expressing  some  conjectures  as  to  the  uncertain  fate  of  the 
poor  girl, — bewailing  alternately  her  folly  and" her  misfortunes, 
and  anticipating  with  compassion  the  effect  of  this  last,  severest 
stroke  upon  the  old  grandmother — she  subsided  into  silence, 
and  permitted  Ellen  to  pursue  her  sad  meditations  undisturb- 
ed. She  was  at  length  awakened  from  them  by  the  deepening 
of  the  twilight,  and  after  a  slight  observation  of  the  road,  she 


REDWOOD.  319 

asked  Deborah  ••  if  she  was  quite  sure  she  had  not  mistaken 
the  way?'' 

Deborah  was  certain  she  had  taken  the  road  that  had  been 
pointed  out  to  her  as  the  shortest  cut  to  the  springs,  but  she 
began  to  think  they  should  have  been  wiser  to  have  remained 
at  the  village,  or  to  have  taken  the  more  travelled  and  more 
thickly-settled  road.  "However,"  she  said,  "it  can  be,  Ellen, 
but  four  or  five  miles  to  the  pool,  and  if  the  daylight  does  not 
last,  we  have  a  moon  to-night,  and  thanks  to  fortune,  neither 
you  nor  I  are  afraid  of  any  thing," 

"  Oh,  afraid — no,  I  trust  not,"  said  Ellen,  assuming  a  cou- 
rage she  did  not  feel,  for  her  dejected  mind  had  colored  with 
a  melancholy  hue  the  face  of  nature ;  and  the  hoarse  sounds  of 
the  brawling  brook  on  her  right,  and  the  deep,  unbroken  wood 
on  the  left,  affected  her  imagination  with  an  undefined  impres- 
sion of  some  possible  evil.  They  proceeded  at  a  very  slow 
rate,  the  ground  was  ascending,  and  the  jaded  old  horse  lagged 
along  as  if  he  felt  the  folly  of  turning  his  back  upon  the  hos- 
pitalities of  the  village. 

They  had  pursued  their  way  for  some  time  in  profound 
silence.  Meanwhile  the  last  traces  of  daylight  had  faded  from 
the  sky,  and  the  stars  began  to  shed  their  scanty  light  upon 
the  grass-grown  road.  Deborah's  patience  was  at  last  quite 
exhausted.  "  Ellen,"  she  said,  "  this  is  the  most  tedious,  lone- 
some way  ever  I  travelled ;  it  will  never  do  to  creep  on  this 
fashion,  our  horse,  poor  fellow,  is  coming  to  a  dead  stand — let 
us  walk,  up  the  rest  of  the  hill ;  you  always  go  like  a  bird,  and 
a  walk  will  limber  my  old  joints,  and  serve  to  warm  me  this 
chilly  night." 

Ellen  acquiesced — and  as  they  walked  on  together,  Deborah 
said,  she  "  had  been  thinking  of  all  she  had  heard  Squire  Red- 
wood say  of  the  dangers  of  the  old  countries,  and  she  was 


320  BED  WOOD. 

thinking  it  would  be  a  pretty  risky  business  for  two  defence- 
less women  to  be  travelling  alone  at  night  in  any  land  but 
our  own." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Ellen  ;  "  but  here,  thank  heaven, 
there  can  be  no  danger ;"  and  as  she  spoke  she  drew  nearer  to 
Deborah,  for  she  fancied  she  heard  a  rustling  in  the  woods  on 
her  left.  Deborah  heard  it  too,  for  she  stopped  the  horse,  sav- 
ing, "  Hark — what  can  that  be  ?"  She  had  hardly  uttered  the 
words  when  a  large  dog  sprang  upon  them  ;  both  were  startled, 
and  looked  anxiously  in  the  direction  from  which  the  dog  had 
come,  but  there  was  neither  motion  nor  sound  there.  ^ 

"  Off,  off,  you  brute  !"  said  Deborah  ;  and  the  dog,  thus 
harshly  repulsed,  turned  as  if  to  appeal  to  Ellen,  crouched  at 
her  feet,  ran  from  her.  and  then  returned  yelping — raised  him- 
self quite  erect,  fawned  again  on  Ellen,  wagged  his  tail,  and 
expressed  over  and  over  again  his  mute  and  painful  entreaties. 

"  Words  can't  speak  no  plainer,"  said  Debby.  "  The  poor 
creatur  would  have  us  go  with  him ;  but  we  must  drive  him 
away,  this  is  no  place  nor  time  to  be  hindered." 

"  Certainly  not— but,"— 

"  But  what,  Ellen  ?  speak  out,  girl." 

u  Why  I  cannot  bear  to  turn  away  from  the  poor  thing,  it 
seems  like  repelling  Providence  to  deny  such  an  instinct  as 
this."  As  she  spoke  she  patted  and  caressed  the  dog  :  "  there 
may  be,  I  think  there  must  be,  some  person  in  distress  in  these 
woods — some  one  hunting  may  have  been  wounded,  such  acci- 
dents are  common."  The  dog  seemed  to  understand  her  words 
or  her  caresses — he  sprang  again  towards  the  wood,  again  re- 
turned, repeated  all  his  modes  of  entreaty,  pressing  his  suit 
with  redoubled  vigor,  and  Ellen  replied  to  him  by  turning  to 
Deborah,  and  saying,  with  determination,  "I  must  follow 
him." 


REDWOOD.  321 

"  Are  you  clean  out  of  your  wits,  child,  to  think  of  patrol- 
ling these  woods  after  this  dog — and  in  case  there  should  be 
any  body  here,  for  the  -Lord's  sake,  what  could  you  or  I  do  ? 
Come,  come  along,  it  grows  late."  But  Ellen  still  hesitated, 
and  Deborah  added,  "  we  cannot  be  far  from  a  house,  and  we 
will  alarm  some  men  and  send  them  here,  which  will  be  much 
the  properest  way." 

Ellen,  from  her  childhood,  and  ever  since  the  memorable 
night  when  a  dog  had  aided  in  her  preservation  from  the  fire, 
had  felt  a  strong  attachment  to  the  whole  race,  had  studied 
their  instincts  and  history  ;  and  while  she  stood  looking  at  the 
petitioning  animal,  a  thousand  stories  of  similar  significant 
actions  glanced  through  her  mind,  and  confirmed  her  reso- 
lution. 

"  I  must  follow  him,  Deborah,"  she  repeated  ;  "  wait  for  me 
here  a  few  moments,  I  will  not  go  beyond  call ;"  and  she  turned 
quickly  away  to  avoid  Debby's  remonstrance. 

"  Stop,  Ellen — stop,  girl — do  you  think  I  will  let  you  go 
alone  after  this  jack-o'-lantern  ?  if  you  won't  hear  to  reason, 
why  there's  an  end  on't — I  must  go  with  you." 

Ellen  waited  while  Deborah  secured  the  horse,  and  they 
then  plunged  into  the  wood  after  the  dog,  who  trotted  along 
the  narrow  footpath,  turning  round  often  as  if  to  assure  him- 
self they  still  followed  him.  "  Well."  said  Deborah.  «  I  don't 
speak  from  any  fear — I  never  was  afraid  in  my  life,  for  I  never 
saw  danger ;  if  I  had,  I  might  have  been  as  scared  as  other 
people  ;  but  I  think  for  two  rational  women,  we  are  in  an  odd 
place,  and  following  a  strange  leader." 

"  And  that  is  as  it  should  be,"  replied  Ellen,  in  an  en- 
couraging tone  ;  "  two  errant  damsels  as  we  are.  in  quest  of 
adventures — danger  there  is  not,  cannot  be  here,  and  we  will 
not  go  much  farther." 
14* 


322  REDWOOD. 

"  No,  that  we  will  not ;  there  is  reason  in  all  things — and 
as  old  Gilpin  says, 

"  'Twas  for  your  pleasure  you  came  here, 
You  shall  go  back  for  mine." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Ellen,  smiling ;  "  only  go  a  little  way 
farther,  the  moon  is  rising,  there  is  a  cleared  place  before  us, 
and  if  we  see  nothing  there,  I  will  consent  to  return." 

Ellen's  benevolent  purpose  had  conquered  her  womanish 
timidity :  her  tender  and  youthful  spirit  was  susceptible  to 
romantic  influences  that  her  companion  could  neither  feel  nor 
comprehend,  and  she  pressed  eagerly  on,  even  in  advance  of 
Deborah,  till  on  issuing  from  the  wood,  the  dog  bounded  before 
her,  and  with  one  desperate  howl  threw  himself  beside  a 
lifeless  body.  "  Good  heavens !"  exclaimed  Ellen,  involun- 
tarily shrinking  back  and  seizing  Deborah's  arm,  and  point- 
ing to  the  figure,  which  by  the  dusky  light  she  could  only 
discern  to  be  that  of  a  man.  whether  dead  or  living  she 
knew  not. 

Deborah,  without  speaking,  without  faltering  or  hesitating 
in  the  least,  walked  rapidly  forward  to  the  body,  and  stooping 
down,  eagerly  gazed  on  it  for  a  moment,  and  then  raising  both 
her  hands  in  token  of  astonishment  to  Ellen,  who  was  timidly 
approaching,  she  exclaimed,  "  A  dead  Indian — as  sure  as  I  am 
a  living  woman,  a  dead  Indian. ): 

"  Is  he  certainly  dead  ?"  asked  Ellen,  compassionately 
bending  over  him. 

"  Dead,  child  !  look  at  his  fallen  jaw,  his  stark  stiff  limbs 
— poor  soul !  he  is  as  dead  as  Christopher  Columbus." 

Ellen  sat  down  on  a  prostrate  trunk  of  a  tree  beside  which 
the  body  lay,  while  Deborah  examined  it  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  the  cause  of  the  poor  wreteh's  death.  There  was 


REDWOOD.  323 

a  wound  on  the  temple  from  which  the  blood  had  flowed  freely, 
and  which  Deborah  thought  might  have  been  occasioned  by  his 
fall,  as  there  was  a  stone  lying  near  his  head  which  it  had  pro- 
bably first  struck.  Fragments  of  an  earthen  jug  were  lying 
about  the  body,  and  Deborah  pointing  to  them,  said,  "  He  has 
died  Indian  fashion,  Ellen,  his  dog  and  his  jug  by  him  ;  after 
all,  for  aught  we  know,  he  may  have  died  of  old  age,  for  he 
looks  as  old  as  Methusalem." 

"  Poor  creature  !"  said  Ellen  ;  "  and  to  die  at  last  without 
a  being  to  care  for  him." 

"  Oh  as  to  that,  that  is  nothing,"  said  Debby,  "  and  if  it 
were,  just  look  at  that  dog  " — the  dog  was  licking  his  master's 
face  and  breast — "  there's  many  a  one,  Ellen,  that  dies  on  a 
feather-bed,  and  them  too  that  have  houses  and  lands,  without 
so  true  a  friend  and  mourner  as  that  poor  brute.  But  come, 
Ellen,  we  can  do  no  good  here  sermonizing  the  matter  ;  we  had 
best  make  our  way  back,  and  give  notice  of  the  man's  death, 
that  somebody  may  come  and  put  him  under  ground,  which  is 
fitting  should  be  done,  seeing  he  is  a  human  being,  though  an 
old  Indian." 

They  rose  to  depart,  and  looking  around,  they  both  per- 
ceived at  the  same  moment  the  hut  of  Sooduck,  (our  readers 
no  doubt  have  anticipated  that  this  Indian  was  none  other,) 
which  till  now  had  been  hidden  from  them  by  the  deep  shad- 
ows of  the  wood.  "  His  wigwam,  I  declare  !"  exclaimed  De- 
borah :  "  we'll  get  the  poor  carr'on  into  it ;  for  I  should  be 
loath,  for  his  dog's  sake,  that  any  thing  should  happen  to  it  till 
we  can  get  it  suitable  burial.  Do  you,  Ellen,  open  the  door  of 
the  hut,  and  I  will  manage  to  drag  the  old  carcass  in." 

Deborah  made  this  division  of  labor  to  save  Ellen  the  pain- 
ful necessity  of  touching  the  dead  body,  and  Ellen  hastened  to 
execute  her  appointed  task.  The  door  was  fastened  with  a 


_ 

324  REDWOOD. 

rope,  and  she  found  so  much  difficulty  in  extricating  the  knots, 
that  Deborah  came  up  with  the  body  before  she  had  effected  it. 
Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  whispering  to  Debby,  "  Hark,"  she 
said,  "  do  you  not  hear  a  sound — a  low  moaning  ?" 

"  Pooh,  child,  you  are  vapory — it  is  nothing  but  a  kitten/' 
replied  Deborah  :  and  laying  down  the  body,  she  drew  from  her 
pocket  a  knife,  with  which  she  cut  the  cord  that  had  fallen  from 
Ellen's  trembling  hands — the  door  flew  open,  and  a  loud  shriek 
from  within  startled  even  Deborah.  She  however  stepped 
boldly  forward,  and  saw  before  her,  in  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  hut,  a  terrified  girl,  who  had  sunk  upon  her  knees,  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  in  apparent  expectation  of 
some  dreadful  evil. 

"  Merciful  heaven  !  save  me,  save  me  !"  she  cried,  as  De- 
borah approached  her. 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  you,  child  ?"  said 
Deborah,  "  there  is  no  one  here  that  will  hurt  a  hair  of  your 
head." 

"  We  are  friends — look  at  us,  come  to  the  light,"  said 
Ellen. 

At  the  sound  of  Ellen's  kind  and  gentle  voice  the  spirit  of 
fear  departed  from  the  half-frantic  girl :  she  rose,  and  looked 
with  trembling  hope  at  her  deliverers :  they  all  advanced  to 
the  door,  the  light  fell  on  their  faces,  and  an  instant  recogni- 
tion followed. 

"  Ellen  !"— «  Emily  !"— «  Deborah  !"— « Is  it  possible  ?"— 
"  It  cannot  be  !" — they  exclaimed  in  one  breath. 

The  joyful  sense  of  hope,  of  protection,  of  safety,  was  al- 
most too  much  for  Emily.  She  threw  her  arms  around  Ellen's 
neck,  and  nearly  fainted  on  her  bosom.  Her  friends  drew  her 
to  a  little  distance  from  the  hut,  and  far  enough  to  avoid  her 
observation  of  the  Indian :  there  Deborah  left  her  to  the 


REDWOOD.  325 

soothing  efforts  of  Ellen,  while  she  returned  to  finish  the  ar- 
rangements for  Sooduck's  body. 

'  An"  evil  creature  he  was,  no  doubt,'  thought  Deborah,  (for 
the  discovery  of  Emily  had  thrown  a  strong  light  on  Sooduck's 
character.)  an  evil  creature,  but  it  is  all  passed  to  his  own 
account  now,  poor  wretch  !' 

These  and  similar  reflections  of  a  compassionate  nature 
filled  Deborah's  mind  while  she  dragged  in  the  body,  composed 
it  decently  on  the  straw,  and  covered  it  with  a  blanket.  The 

.X" 

faithful  dog  took  his  station  beside  it,  and  there  Deborah  left 
him  to  keep  guard,  until  she  could  send  some'  persons  to  per- 
form the  last  offices  for  his  master. 

These  arrangements  occupied  but  a  few  moments,  but  they 
gave  Emily  time  to  recover  a  sufficient  degree  of  strength  and 
calmness  to  accompany  her  friends  back  to  the  chaise.  The 
tide  of  joy  that  comes  from  a  sense  of  deliverance  from  great 
danger  is  prompt  and  powerful  in  its  operations.  The  timid 
despairing  girl,  released  from  her  captivity,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  friends,  felt  as  if  she  had  been  translated  to 
another  world,  and  before  they  reached  the  chaise  she  relieved 
their  worst  apprehensions  by  giving  them  a  sufficiently  clear 
account  of  Reuben's  treachery. 

From  them  she  first  learned  Sooduck's  death,  and  could 
afford  no  clue  to  its  cause.  He  had  left  her  as  usual  in  the 
morning,  and  she  had  heard  nothing  since  but  the  terrible  up- 
roar made  by  the  dog,  when  (as  she  now  conjectured)  on  seeing 
his  fallen  master,  he  had  struggled,  and  at  last  successfully,  to 
release  himself  from  his  confinement. 

It  seemed  probable  that  Sooduck,  tempted  by  the  superior 
quality  of  the  liquor  furnished  by  Harrington,  or  by  its  abun- 
dance, had  indulged  his  appetite  to  such  excess  as  to  extinguish 
his  feeble  spark  of  life;  or,  as  Deborah  concluded,  his  fall 


326  REDWOOD. 

had  occasioned  his  death.  After  quite  as  much  consideration 
as  the  miserable  subject  merited,  the  verdict  of  our  fair  jury 
was  '  accidental  death.'  Emily  accounted  for  her  terrors  on 
the  appearance  of  her  friends  by  saying,  that  her  fear  of  Har- 
rington had  converted  every  sound  into  a  notice  of  his  return. 
It  seemed  utterly  impossible  for  the  poor  girl  to  express  her 
joy  that  she  had  been  rescued  from  him,  and  her  gratitude  to 
her  deliverers.  She  had  not  once  mentioned  the  elder  sister's 
name  in  her  brief  relation  of  her  flight ;  but  Ellen,  ever  con- 
siderate of  others,  proposed  as  they  reached  the  chaise,  that 
they  should  return  to  the  village  and  relieve  Susaq  at  once 
from  her  painful  apprehensions.  Emily  said  nothing,  for  she 
hesitated  between  her  wish  to  see  and  to  relieve  her  kind 
friend,  and  her  reluctance  to  venture  within  her  prison  bounds. 

Deborah  cut  the  deliberation  short  by  saying,  "  No,  no, 
Ellen,  you  have  had  your  way  once,  and  a  good  way  it  proved, 
and  I  shall  think  to  my  dying  day  that  the  Lord  led  you  up 
through  them  woods — but  now  I  must  have  mine.  There  is  no 
knowing,"  she  whispered  to  Ellen,  "  what  might  happen  if  we 
went  back  ;  '  a  bird  in  the  hand,'  you  know — Come,  jump  in, 
Ellen — jump  in.  Emily,  my  little  godsend,  and  we'll  on  as  fast 
as  possible." 

Ellen  acquiesced,  secretly  resolving  with  the  morning  dawn 
to  dispatch  a  messenger  with  the  good  news  to  Susan  ;  a  reso- 
lution she  exactly  performed.  The  travellers  then  proceeded 
at  good  speed  to  Lebanon  Springs,  and  arrived  there  before 
midnight  without  any  other  interruption  than  that  occasioned 
by  Deborah's  '  keeping  good  faith  with  the  dog,'  as  she  termed 
it,  by  stopping  at  the  first  house  on  their  way  to  give  informa- 
tion of  Sooduck's  death. 

As  Emily  Allen's  connection  ceased  from  this  time  for  ever 
with  the  Shaker  society,  we  will  inform  our  readers  now,  with- 


REDWOOD.  327 

out  troubling  them  again  to  recur  to  the  subject,  with  the  re- 
sult of  Harrington's  expedition  to  Albany.  Harrington  had 
received  from  Freeborn,  the  ruling  elder  of  the  society  at 
Hancock,  a  check  for  five  thousand  dollars,  which  was  the 
principal  part  of  a  sum  lodged  to  the  credit  of  the  society  in 
a  bank  in  Albany,  where  they  were  in  the  habit  of  depositing 
the  surplus  money  which  they  received  from  the  sale  of  their 
productions  of  agriculture  and  manufactures.  This  money 
had  been  at  various  times  received  in  the  market  of  Albany, 
and  deposited  in  the  bank  for  safe  keeping  ;  and  these  five 
thousand  dollars  were  now  wanted  to  pay  the  purchase-money 
of  an  adjoining  farm,  which  the  elders  had  determined  to  add 
to  their  possessions.  It  was  however  designed  by  Harrington 
for  a  very  different  application.  Eager  to  secure  the  money, 
he  went  to  the  bank  immediately  upon  its  being  opened  in  the 
morning,  and  presented  the  check  for  payment. 

The  clerk  who  received  it  observed  that  the  check  was  pay- 
able not  to  bearer,  but  to  order,  and  that  it  must  be  endorsed 
before  it  could  be  pard.  Harrington  said  that  he  would  en- 
dorse it,  which  he  immediately  did,  and  presented  it  again  for 
payment.  This  delay  and  conversation  attracted  the  notice  of 
the  cashier,  who  took  up  and  examined  the  draft  as  the  clerk 
was  counting  out  the  money  to  Harrington. 

"  Stop,"  said  he,  "  the  check  is  payable  to  the  order  of  » 
Reuben  Harrington  and  John  Jacobs,  and  must  be  endorsed 
by  them  both.     Elder  Freeborn  is  a  very  exact  man  about 
worldly  matters,  and  as  he  has  made  his  check  payable  to  the 
order  of  two  people,  we  must  have  the  order  of  both  of  them." 

Harrington  could  not  restrain  the  expression  of  a  little 
more  impatience  than  became  his  garb  and  assumed  character : 
he  however  received  back  the  check,  and  said  that  he  would 
step  to  friend  Jacobs,  who  lived  in  the  next  street,  and  procure 


328  REDWOOD. 

his  endorsement.  He  then  called  on  Jacobs  and  requested 
him  to  endorse  the  check.  This  Jacobs  was  a  sober,  staid  citi- 
zen, who  had  often  had  dealings  with  the  Shaker  society,  and 
had  contracted  some  acquaintance  with  the  elders,  and  particu- 
larly elder  Freeborn. 

When  Harrington  had  explained  the  business,  Jacobs,  after 
a  little  reflection,  said  that  he  saw  no  harm  which  could  come 
to  him  from  endorsing  the  check,  which  he  accordingly  did. 
"  Friend  Freeborn,"  said  he,  "  is  a  careful  man,  and  likes  to 
have  his  business  done  right.  I  will  step  and  get  the  money 
for  you  myself."  He  went  out,  and  returned  after  a  few  min- 
utes with  bank  notes  to  the  amount  of  the  check.  He  then  en- 
tered into  some  general  conversation  with  Harrington,  who 
restrained  his  impatience  for  the  actual  possession  of  the  prize 
as  much  as  possible :  at  last,  however,  he  observed  that  he 
must  be  going,  as  he  had  business  to  do  in  the  city  that  day 
before  he  returned  home.  Jacobs  took  no  notice  of  this  hint, 
but  continued  the  conversation  upon  the  subject  of  some 
Shaker  ploughs  which  he  had  for  sale  on  commission.  At  last 
Harrington  asked  him  directly  for  the  money. 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  replied  Jacobs,  "  as  soon  as  you  give 
me  elder  Freebor.n's  order  for  it."  Harrington  said  that  he  had 
no  such  order,  and  that  none  was  necessary ;  that  the  check 
was  in  his  favor  as  well  as  that  of  Jacobs',  and  that  he  was  an 
elder  as  well  as  Freeborn. 

"  Elder  Freeborn,"  said  Jacobs,  "  hag  the  care  of  the  pru- 
dentials. At  any  rate,  I  have  received  this  money  upon  his 
check,  and  I  must  have  his  order  before  I  pay  it  away  to  any 
body." 

Harrington  entreated  and  remonstrated,  but  the  man  of 
business  seemed  inclined  to  adhere  to  his  punctilio.  Harring- 
ton had  before  entertained  some  apprehension  that  his  fraudu- 


REDWOOD.  329 

lent  designs  were  not  wholly  unsuspected  by  the  shrewd  and 
cautious  Freeborn,  and  it  now  occurred  to  him  that  the  embar- 
rassment in  which  he  was  placed  might  not  be  wholly  acci- 
dental. His  threats  and  flatteries  only  served  to  confirm  the 
cool  and  wary  Jacobs  in  his  suspicion  of  Harrington's  dishonest 
intentions — at  last,  quite  discouraged,  Harrington  left  the  im- 
practicable trader,  cursing  the  superior  cunning  that  had  baf- 
fled his  well-concerted  project. 

His  next  concern  was  in  regard  to  Emily.  It  appeared 
easiest,  and  would  certainly  be  safest,  to  abandon  the  wreck — 
to  give  up  the  ship  ;  but  he  had  so  long  flattered  himself  with 
the  possession  of  this  young  creature,  he  so  thirsted  for  revenge 
against  Susan,  and  his  pride  was  so  much  interested  in  at  least 
a  partial  success,  that  after  some  anxious  deliberation  with 
himself,  he  determined  to  return  to  Emily,  not  doubting  that 
she  would  accept  her  liberty  on  any  terms  he  should  vouchsafe 
to  offer.  Accordingly  he  left  Albany  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
having  travelled  all  night,  he  arrived  at  Sooduck's  hut  just  at 
the  break  of  day  on  the  morning  after  Emily's  escape.  It  is 
not  necessary,  and  certainly  would  be  difficult  to  paint  his  con- 
sternation at  the  sight  that  there  greeted  him.  But  there  was 
no  time  for  inquiry  or  delay.  It  was  important  to  him  that 
he  should  not  be  recognized  in  that  neighborhood.  He  was 
not,  however,  destined  to  escape  without  farther  mortification. 
On  re-entering  the  public  road  he  was  met  by  some  men,  who 
had  collected  in  consequence  of  Deborah's  notice,  to  dispose  of 
Sooduck's  body.  They  had  heard  the  story  of  his  villainy, 
which  was  already  in  general  circulation.  They  knew  him 
well,  and  moved  by  an  intuitive  love  of  justice,  as  well  as  by  a 
friendly  feeling  to  the  society,  they  stopped  his  horses,  bound 
him  hand  and  foot,  and  drove  him  in  triumph  back  to  his 
Shaker  brethren. 


330  REDWOOD. 

The  messenger  dispatched  by  Ellen  arrived  about  the  same 
time  ;  and  Susan,  thus  relieved  from  her  anxiety,  and  rejoicing 
in  the  innocence  and  safety  of  Emily,  was  able  to  assist  at  the 
council  that  was  called  to  deliberate  on  the  proper  measures  to 
be  taken  in  regard  to  the  culprit.  The  result  of  a  short  con- 
ference was  equivalent  to  the  sentence  of  the  Quaker  against 
his  dog.  '  I  will  not  myself  kill  thee,'  he  said,  '  but  I'll  turn 
thee  on  the  world  and  give  thee  a  bad  name.'  Reuben  Har- 
rington was  dispossessed  of  every  thing  he  held  belonging  to 
the  soci-ity,  but  the  clothes  that  covered  him,  and  sent  out  to 
wander  upon  the  earth,  despised  and  avoided,  enduring  all  the 
misery  r.f  unsuccessful  and  unrepented  guilt. 


REDWOOD.         \  333 


CHAPTER  XX. 


"  The  billows  on  the  ocean, 
The  breezes  idly  roaming, 
The  clouds'  uncertain  motion, 
They  are  but  types  of  woman." 

BURNS. 

IT  is  probably  well  known  to  most  of  our  readers,  that  Leba- 
non is  a  favorite  resort  during  the  hot  months.  It  lies  on  a 
post-road  from  Boston  to  Albany — is  of  easy  access  from  New- 
York — and  from  the  beauty  of  its  scenery,  the  salubrity  of  its 
air,  and  its  proximity  to  Saratoga  Springs,  attracts,  for  a  short 
time  at  least,  the  throng  of  visitors  to  those  celebrated  waters. 
The  mineral  spring  that  is  nominally  the  chief  attraction  of 
the  place,  should  not  be  forgotten  ;  if  not  as  efficacious  as  its 
neighbors  would  fain  believe,  it  is  at  least  innocent — no  one 
can  forget  it  who  has  seen  the  bright  waters  for  ever  bubbling 
up  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and  admired  the  sycamore- 
tree  that  stands  beside  the  sparkling  fountain,  like  its  guardian 
genius,  and  drops  its  protecting  branches  over  it. 

Our  travellers  were  fortunate  in  the  time  of  their  arrival : 
large  parties  had  left  the  place  the  preceding  day,  and  they 
were  able  to  obtain  two  apartments  in  Mr.  Hull's  well-known 
house ;  one  was  assigned  to  Ellen,  and  the  other  Emily  shared 
with  her  relative  and  true  friend  Deborah. 


332  REDWOOD. 

Ellen,  wearied  as  she  was,  did  not  retire  to  bed  until  she 
had  written  a  note  to  the  '  elder  sister,'  containing  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  Emily's  distressful  experiences  and  providential 
rescue  ;  nor  till  she  had  obtained  a  promise  from  her  landlord 
that  he  would  dispatch  it  with  the  first  ray  of  light.  The  com- 
mission was  faithfully  executed,  as  might  have  been  expected 
frcm  his  obliging  character, 

Even  after  Ellen  had  performed  this  duty,  it  was  long  ere 
she  could  compose  her  mind  to  sleep,  Relieved  of  all  anxiety 
concerning  Emily,  her  thoughts  reverted  to  the  friends  she  had 
left  at  Eton  ;  hovered  about  Mr.  Redwood  with  an  undefinable 
interest,  and  finally  concentrated  on  Charles  Westall.  All  the 
circumstances  of  her  brief  intercourse  with  him  passed  in  re- 
vision before  her ;  and  she  dwelt  on  each  particular  over  and 
over  again,  as  a  miser  counts  his  treasures — the  cherished  re- 
collections of  memory  gave  place  to  the  (perhaps  unbidden) 
visions  of  hope,  and  all  at  last  faded  away  like  the  bright  tints 
of  the  evening  cloud,  and  she  sunk  into  profound  repose. 

Deborah's  weariness  prevailed  over  the  force  of  long  habit, 
and  neither  she  nor  her  protegees  awoke  till  a  late  hour  in  the 
morning,  when,  in  compliance  with  Ellen's  persuasions,  she  or- 
dered breakfast  in  her  room  :  after  partaking  it  with  her  usual 
appetite,  she  left  her  less  enterprising  companions,  and  sallied 
forth  to  reconnoitre  the  premises,  and  to  try  the  effect  of 
bathing  on  her  rheumatism. 

Neither  Ellen  nor  Emily  felt  any  disposition  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  their  minds  to  remain  at  Lebanon.  Emily's  affec- 
tions, released  from  the  captivity  of  an  imaginary  duty,  had 
bounded  forward  to  their  natural  destination  ;  and  Ellen  was 
impatient  to  accelerate  her  return  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  to  whom 
alone  she  could  unburthen  her  heart ;  but  they  both  knew  that 
Deborah  had  resolved  to  remain  at  the  springs  for  some  days, 


REDWOOD.  333 

and  that  her  resolution  once  formed,  was  quite  as  immutable  as 
the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  They  felt  too,  that  after 
the  great  inconveniences  the  good  woman  had  endured,  and  the 
essential  services  she  had  rendered  them,  there  would  be  a  spe- 
cies of  ingratitude  in  opposing  her  wishes.  Ellen  had  not  a 
nature  to  resist  the  persuasion  of  such  a  motive  :  the  gentle 
Emily  never  resisted  any  thing,  and  they  both  prepared  to 
appear  with  the  best  grace  they  could  before  the  gay  and  the 
fashionable,  under  the  conduct  of  Miss  Deborah.  Emily's  life 
had  been  too  retired  and  humble  to  expose  her  to  any  moi  tifi- 
cation  from  the  appearance  and  manners  of  her  chaperone,  yet 
she  shrunk  with  natural  timidity  from  the  possibility  that  her 
history  might  be  known,  and  that  she  might  therefore  be  ex- 
posed to  the  curious  gaze  and  free  remarks  of  strangers.  But 
Ellen  encouraged  her  with  the  assurance,  that  as  they  were  all 
strangers,  there  was  no  clue  to  the  discovery  that  she  was  the 
little  runaway  Shaker,  and  having  made  her  doff  her  Shaker 
dress,  and  put  on  a  simple  mourning  frock  which  she  had  pro- 
vided for  her,  she  remodelled  her  hair — formed  some  becoming 
curls  on  her  temples — and  imparted  such  a  worldly  tasteful- 
ness  to  her  appearance,  that  the  simple  girl  confessed  herself 
so  completely  metamorphosed,  that  she  hardly  recognized  her 
own  image, 

As  neatness  and  simplicity  were  the  presiding  graces  at 
Ellen's  toilet,  its  duties  were  very  expeditiously  dispatched. 
Happily  for  her,  since  she  did  not  possess  the  gifts  of  fortune, 
the  loveliness  of  her  face  and  figure  made  her  superior  to  her 
favors  or  arts,  at  least  so  thought  Deborah,  as  well  as  more  com- 
petent judges,  for  when  she  re-entered  after  her  perambulations, 
she  said  (the  only  speech  of  hers  on  record  that  betrays  any 
femality,)  she  did  not  believe  the  United  States  could  produce 
Wo  girls  'prettier  to  look  at.'  Ellen  felt  some  consternation 


334  REDWOOD. 

when  she  added,  that  '  though  she  was  not  much  of  a  dresser, 
she  liked  to  rig  out  suitably  to  her  voyage  ;  and  as  she  had 
observed  by  the  ladies  she  had  met,  that  Lebanon  was  a  dressy 
place,  her  young  folks  should  not  be  ashamed  of  her.' 

She  then  proceeded  to  unpack  her  trunk,  and  drew  from  its 
stores  a  'lutestring  changeable,' — manufacture  of  the  olden 
time.  The  fancy  of  Deborah's  youth  had  been  orange  and  pur- 
ple, and  as  it  was  her  pride  and  boast  that  she  never  altered 
her  apparel  in  subservience  to  the  whims  of  fashion,  the 
'  changeable'  that  had  remained  through  all  chances  and  changes 
unchanged,  and  always  "  like  a  robe  canonical,  i^e'er  seen,  but 
wondered  at,"  was  once  more  dragged  forth  to  the  light  of  day, 
and  its  antique  and  unbending  dignity  exposed  to  the  levity  of 
modern  gossamer  belles. 

Ellen  watched  Deborah  with  dismay,  while  she  drew  on  the 
closely  fitted  sleeve,  and  laced  the  formal  waist,  and  adroitly 
placed  her  gold  beads  over  her  'kerchief,  that  their  light  might 
not  be  hid.  After  her  first  and  brief  sacrifice  to  the  graces, 
turning  to  Ellen,  she  said,  with  a  complacency  that  her  young 
friend  could  not  but  pity,  "  Now  I  think,  as  to  dressing-up,  I 
am  fit  company  for  any  body — what  do  you  say,  Ellen  ? 

"  Fit  company  for  any  body  you  always  are,  Miss  Deborah," 
replied  Ellen,  "without  any  outward  adorning — but  I  think 
your  dress  admits  of  one  improvement ;"  and  while  she  made 
an  effort  to  restrain  the  smile  that  in  spite  of  her  hovered  on 
her  lips,  she  persuaded  Deborah  that  a  lace  shawl,  which  she 
dexterously  threw  over  her  shoulders,  improved  her  appearance. 
Deborah  assented,  and  the  dinner  bell  ringing,  our  heroine, 
with  the  courage  of  a  martyr,  slipped  her  arm  into  one  tif  Deb- 
orah's, while  Emily,  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  ludicrous  anti- 
quity of  her  friend's  costume,  took  the  other.  Thus  they 
entered  the  dining  room,  where  the  company  was  already  assem- 


REDWOOD.  335 . 

bled,  and  having  taken  their  seats,  were  precisely  at  that  point  of 
momentary  silence  that  precedes  the  general  onset.  The  rus- 
tling of  Deborah's  silk  attracted  some  observation,  but  it  was 
not  till  she  moved  to  the  head  of  the  table,  and  took  possession 
of  a  seat  that  had  been  reserved  for  a  gentleman  who  usually 
occupied  it,  while  Ellen  and  Emily  slid  into  vacant  chairs  on 
each  side  of  her,  that  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  novel  group. 
Deborah's  figure,  in  her  usual  apparel,  was  rather  grotesque, 
but  not  sufficiently  so  to  provoke  or  excuse  laughter — she 
would  have  looked  between  Ellen  and  Emily  like  the  gnarled 
oak,  somewhat  scathed  by  time  and  accident,  but  still  respect- 
able in  its  hardy  age,  whose  firm  protection  the  tender  vines 
had  sought,  and  bloomed  around  it  in  all  the  freshness  of  youth 
and  beauty.  But  the  yellow  and  purple  changeable  was  irre- 
sistibly ludicrous.  Some  lively  girls  who  sat  near  the  head 
of  the  table  began  a  titter :  the  infection  was  caught  by  their 
neighbors,  and  all,  even  grave  matrons  and  staid  old  gentlemen, 
were  compelled  to  turn  their  faces,  hide  them  with  their  hand- 
kerchiefs, or  outrage  all  breeding,  violate  all  decorum,  and  laugh 
outright.  Poor  little  Emily,  not  discerning  the  subject  of  the 
mirth,  and  seeing  it  was  directed  towards  the  part  of  the  table 
she  occupied,  believed  herself  the  subject  of  it,  and  half  fright- 
ened out  of  her  senses,  averted  her  head  to  conceal  her  blushes 
and  her  tears.  Deborah's  sagacity  was  at  fault  for  a  moment, 
but  the  truth  suddenly  flashed  across  her  mind,  and  involun- 
tarily rising  and  turning  to  Ellen,  "  Am  I  their  music  ?"  she 
exclaimed ;  when  seeing  that  Ellen  too — for  the  truth  must  be 
told — had  lost  all  command  of  her  risibles,  and  had  joined  the 
laughers,  her  astonishment  expressed,  '  and  thou  too  1  this  is 
the  unkindest  cut  of  all ;'  and  she  would  have  probably  said 
something  equivalent  to  it,  but  the  attention  of  the  company 
was  diverted  by  a  bustle  at  the  door ;  and  Mr.  Redwood  enter- 


336  REDWOOD. 

ed,  leading  in  Mrs.  Westall,  and  followed  by  Miss  Redwood 
attended  by  Charles  Westall. 

Deborah's  tall  figure,  standing  erect  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  first  caught  Mr.  Redwood's  eye,  and  to  the  surprise  of 
the  company  he  exclaimed,  "  Miss  Deborah  ! — my  old  friend 
— God  bless  you,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  and  Miss  Bruce — my 
dear  Ellen,"  he  said,  advancing  with  the  greatest  cordiality, 
and  shaking  Deborah's  hand  heartily,  and  kissing  Ellen's, 
"  this  is  delightful,  to  meet  you  again — and  so  unexpectedly  !" 

Deborah  forgot  her  irritation  in  her  sudden  pleasure,  and 
returned  Mr.  Redwood's  greeting  with  all  her  heart.  "I 
thought,  sir,"  she  said,  "  that  you  were  half  way  to  Boston  by 
this  time." 

"  I  was  half  way  there,  Miss  Deborah,  but  my  courage 
failed  me : — I  found  my  strength  and  spirits  unequal  to  en- 
joying the  society  of  Boston.  I  have  not  philosophy  enough 
to  resist  its  attractions,  so  I  turned  my  face  homeward,  and 
have  been  guided  hither,"  he  concluded,  looking  at  Ellen,  "  by 
my  good  genius."  Ellen,  disconcerted  by  the  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  the  party,  could  not  command  words  to  reply  to 
Mr.  Redwood,  or  to  return  Mrs.  Westall's  polite  recognition. 

Mr.  Redwood  observed  her  embarrassment.  "  We  are 
keeping  our  friends  standing,"  he  said  ;  "  let  us  pass  on,  Mrs. 
Westall,  my  daughter  I  believe  is  at  ..the  lower  end  of  the 
room  :"  then  lowering  his  voice  to  Ellen,  he  added,  "  we  shall 
see  you  immediately  after  dinner."  ^v 

Deborah  looked  after  Mr.  Redwood  as  he  walked  away, 
and  shook  her  head  •  "  He  is  dreadfully  changed.  Ellen,  since 
we  left  him — poor*man,  he  is  not  long  for  this  world." 

Ellen  had  noticed  that  his  face,  as  the  glow  of  surprise 
faded  from  it,  reverted  to  a  sickly,  ghastly  paleness :  but  at 
this  moment  a  subject  of  stronger  interest  occupied  her  mind. 


REDWOOD.  337 

She  ventured  a  timid  glance  towards  that  part  of  the  room  to 
which  Miss  Redwood  had  turned  on  seeing  her  :  there  appear- 
ed to  be  some  delay  about  the  arrangement  of  the  seats  for 
the  new  comers.  In  the  meantime  Miss  Redwood  was  still 
standing  with  her  arm  in  Westall's,  and  receiving  the  compli- 
ments of  a  gentleman  in  the  uniform  of  a  British  officer,  who 
had  just  approached  from  the  table.  Ellen  fancied  she  saw — 
for  the  feelings  that  made  her  heart  at  that  moment  throb  al- 
most audibly  have  a  wonderful  effect  on  the  vision — she  fan- 
cied she  saw  a  mingled  expression  of  impatience  and  joy  on 
Westall's  countenance,  and  a  moment  after  she  heard  him 
Doming  towards  her  with  rapid  steps. 

The  dread  of  observation — the  fear  of  exposing  those  emo- 
tions that  every  delicate  woman  instinctively  conceals,  restored 
to  her  at  once  her  self-command,  and  when  she  gave  Westall 
her  hand,  she  simply  evinced  the  frank  pleasure  that  became 
the  reception  of  any  friend  ;  and  she  preserved  her  self-posses- 
sion in  spite  of  Deborah's  exclaiming  with  her  usual  blunt- 
ness,  "  Well  now,  Mr.  Westall !  it  does  a  body's  heart  good  to 
see  the  face  of  a  friend  in  a  strange  land,  and  especially  yours, 
and  looking  so  joyful  too." 

"  I  shall  like  my  face  the  better  all  my  life,"  replied  West- 
all,  "  for  speaking  such  plain  truth :  it  would  be  but  a  poor 
index  if  it  did  not  make  the  pleasure  of  this  unexpected  meet- 
ing intelligible.  Miss-  Bruce,  I  rejoice  to  see,"  he  added,  in 
an  under  tone,  "  that  you  have  been  successful  in  your  benevo- 
lent mission — but  my  mother  is  beckoning  to  me — farewell  till 
after  dinner." 

So  important  an  event  as  the  arrival  of  a  celebrated  beauty 
at  a  watering-place,  effected  a  complete  diversion  in  favor  of 
Deborah's  changeable — and  the  regard  shown  to  her  by  Mr. 
Redw/Jod  shielded  her  from  the  ridicule  of  the  company. 
15 


338  REDWOOD. 

After  complimenting  by  her  keen  relish  a  variety  of  viands 
within  her  reach,  Deborah  turned  to  observe  how  her  protegees 
fared.  "  I  am  glad,  Emily,"  she  said,  "  to  see  you  have  an 
appetite  ;  but  Ellen,  child,  what  ails  you  1  you  eat  as  people 
eat  in  dreams,  that  is  to  say,  you  don't  eat  at  all :  you  must  be 
more  nice  than  wise,  not  to  find  something  to  suit  your  palate 
on  this  table,  where  there  is  such  a  fulness,  and  all  fresh  too. 
Take  a  piece  of  the  chicken,  Ellen — it  is  a  nice  chicken  for 
this  time  o'  year — by  the  way,  I  must  find  out  how  this  young 
Mr.  Hull  feeds  his  chickens — try  a  piece,  Ellen" — Ellen  de- 
clined it.  "  Well  then,  take  a  piece  of  the  lamb,  child.  I  can 
assure  you  it  is  a  firstling  of  the  flock,  tender  and  fat ;  or  if 
you  don't  fancy  lamb,  let  that  gentleman  help  you  off  the  dish 
next  him — what  do  you  call  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Ragout,  madam." 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  the  name  before,  and  I  can't  tell  now 
any  more  than  when  I  ate  it,  whether  it's  fish  or  flesh,  but  for 
a  new-fashioned  thing  it's  very  pretty  tasted — the  fare  is  ex- 
cellent. I  have  ate  a  little  of  all,  and  I  freely  give  it  my  re- 
commend. Come,  Ellen,  don't  split  peas  any  longer,  but  take 
a  little  something — do." 

Ellen  continued,  however,  obstinately  to  refuse  Deborah's 
solicitations ;  and  her  attention  being  soon  engrossed  by  the 
pies  and  puddings  which  she  appeared  to  deem  worthy  succes- 
sors of  the  meats,  Ellen  was  relieved  from  her  persecutions, 
and  permitted  for  a  short  interval  to  chew  the  food  of  sweet 
and  bitter  fancies — a  kind  of  food  that  had  quite  spoiled  her 
appetite  for  any  grosser  elements. 

The  unforeseen  meeting  with  the  Redvrood  party  had  sug- 
gested to  Ellen's  mind  hopes  and  fears — resolutions  and  irreso- 
lutions. It  must  be  confessed  that  there  was  something  in  the 
expression  of  Charles  Westall's  face,  and  in  the  tones  of  his 


REDWOOD.  339 

voice,  that  conveyed  to  her  heart  an  assurance  of  consolation  for 
any  evils  that  might  await  her.  Love  insinuates  its  language 
through  the  eyes,  and  in  the  modulations  of  the  voice,  but  those 
alone  whose  senses  have  been  touched  by  the  magic  herb  of 
Oberon  can  comprehend  it — to  all  others  it  is  like  the  '  har- 
mony of  immortal  souls' — they  cannot  hear  it.  Who  could 
have  imagined  that  Ellen  had  deduced  from  her  brief  interview 
with  her  lover  the  absolute  certainty  that  she  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  the  arts  of  Miss  Kedwood !  Who  could  have  ima- 
gined that  it  strengthened  her  resolution  to  await  the  reversion 
of  Mrs.  Westall's  kindness,  and  the  development  of  her  own 
history  !  But  so  it  was.  Certain  that  his  attachment  to  her 
had  not  been  shaken  by  Caroline's  artifices,  nor  his  mother's 
distrust ;  she  was  willing  to  leave  all  the  rest  to  time  and 
chance ;  or,  rather — for  we  are  doing  injustice  to  the  religious 
habits  of  her  mind — to  the  kind  Providence  that  had  thus  far 
watched  over  her. 

Ellen  dreaded  coming  in  collision  again  with  Miss  Red- 
wood :  she  trembled  at  the  recollection  of  the  unaccountable, 
mysterious  hatred  which  Caroline  had  expressed  at  their  last 
interview ;  but  after  a  little  reflection  she  arrived  at  the  tran- 
quillizing conclusion,  that  the  eclat  that  would  attend  Miss 
Redwood  on  the  scene  where  they  were  now  to  play  their  parts, 
would  render  her  quite  hidifferent  to  so  insignificant  a  personage 
as  herself;  and  in  the  shelter  of  her  humility,  she  hoped  to 
pass  without  observation  or  envy.  She  resolved  to  forego  the 
pleasure  of  Mr.  Redwood's  society,  to  make  the  more  difficult 
sacrifice  of  Westall's,  and  in  short,  to  seclude  herself  as  much 
as  possible  in  her  own  apartment. 

Ellen  learned  from  the  remarks  of  the  persons  sitting 
around  her,  that  Miss  Redwood's  fame  had  preceded  her  arri- 
val. 'frdPoor  girls !"  said  a  good-natured  looking  old  gentleman, 


340  ,  REDWOOD. 

who  was  surrounded  by  his  nieces,  to  whom  he  addressed  him- 
self, "  you  may  hang  your  harps  upon  the  willows  now,  or  play 
a  requiem  on  them  to  your  departed  glory — this  southern  lu- 
minary will  put  out  your  light.  See,  my  poor  little  Anne,  your 
military  beau  has  fallen  within  the  sphere  of  her  attractions 
already." 

"  I  could  not,  in  reason,  uncle,"  retorted  the  young  lady, 
"  expect  such  a  light  material  as  Fitzgerald  to  resist  Miss  Red- 
wood's solid  attractions ;  give  up  your  old-fashioned  whim, 
uncle,  of  leaving  a  modicum  to  your  relations  to  the  seven- 
teenth degree — banish  all,"  she  continued,  glancing  her  eyes 
sportively  around  upon  her  companions — "  sisters,  cousins,  all 
— all,  but  faithful  Anne.  Make  me  your  sole  heiress,  uncle — 
add  golden  spurs  to  my  armor,  and  Fitzgerald  the  prize,  I 
will  not  fear  to  enter  the  lists  against  Miss  Redwood." 

"  That's  a  brave  girl,  Anne,  and  a  good-tempered  girl,  too," 
replied  her  uncle,  patting  her  cheek.  "  I  like  a  girl  that  can 
lose  an  admirer,  and  bear  a  joke  about  it :  you  are  ten  times 
prettier,  Anne,  in  my  eyes,  than  Miss  Redwood.  I  would  not 
exchange  your  good-humored  dimples  for  all  her  beauty.  I  ob- 
served that  as  she  entered  the  room  something  crossed  my 
young  lady's  humor — she  flashed  the  fires  of  her  bright  eyes 
towards  this  end  of  the  table,  and  '  the  angry  spot  did  glow  on 
Caesar's  brow.' " 

There  was  a  fat  lady  sitting  next  the  speaker,  blowing  away 
sturdily  with  her  fan,  and  waiting  impatiently  for  her  turn  to 
pour  forth.  She  was  one  of  those  busy  people,  whose  minds 
seem  to  be  a  sort  of  alms-basket,  into  which  they  collect  odds 
and  ends  of  information  that  belong  to  every  body's  affairs  but 
their  own.  After  saying  that  she  fancied  any  one  who  thought 
Miss  Redwood  was  not  amiable  would  find  himself  greatly  in 
error,  she  detailed,  with  the  air  of  consequence  with  which  she 


REDWOOD.  341 

felt  herself  invested  by  the  possession  of  such  important  par- 
ticulars, the  news  she  had  picked  up  about  the  Redwood  party, 
in  which,  as  our  readers  will  observe,  there  was  the  usual  pro- 
portion of  truth  that  obtains  in  such  rumors. 

"  An  express,"  she  said,  had  arrived  the  day  before  to  se- 
cure rooms  for  the  party.  They  had  been  detained  a  long  time 
in  a  miserable  hovel  in  Vermont,  in  consequence  of  a'  terrible 
wound  which  Mr  Redwood  had  received  when  he  was  wrecked 
on  the  lake,  or  overturned  in  his  carriage,  she  was  not  sure 
which,  but  she  understood  the  account  was  in  the  newspapers 
at  the  time.  Poor  Miss  Redwood  had  suffered  shockingly. 
Her  friends  had  been  apprehensive  that  her  life  would  be 
sacrificed  to  her  fatigue  and  confinement  with  her  father.  Her 
life,  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  had  been  saved  by  the  young 
gentleman  who  was  with  them ;  and  it  was  believed,  indeed," 
she  added  with  a  simper,  "  she  might  say  it  was  certain  they 
were  now  engaged,  for  Mr.  Redwood,  who  had  withheld  his 
consent  on  account  of  the  young  man's  want  of  fortune,  had 
lately  become  interested  in  Mr.  Westall,  and  all  now  was  going 
on  smoothly." 

"  What  trumpery !  what  nonsense  !"     Deborah  repeatedly     j*& 
ejaculated  in  an  under-voice,  as  the  narrator  proceeded,  when 
Ellen,  frightened  lest  she  should  take  up  her  testimony,  whis- 
pered a  caution,  which  she  had  the  prudence  to  heed. 

Some  one  asked  of  the  lady  informer  the  source  of  her  in- 
formation. She  said  that  a  particular  friend,  who  had  left  the 
springs  that  morning,  had  shown  her  a  letter  from  a  lady  in 
Charleston,  who  had  seen  a  letter  which  had  been  received 
from  Miss  Redwood. 

"  Yonr  information,  madam,  is  doubtless  authentic,"  said 
the  ora  gentleman,  affecting  a  credulity  which  he  was  far 
enough  from  feeling ;  ';  but  I  am  quite  happy  to  observe,  that 


342 


EEDWOOD. 


the  apprehensions  of  the  young  lady's  friends  concerning  her 
health  were  groundless.     She  is  a  perfect  Hebe." 

"  Oh,  that  may  well  be,  sir — young  people  recover  sur- 
prisingly ;  but  it  is  sure  that  Miss  Kedwood  remained  with  her 
father  night  and  day  for  weeks — how  could  she  help  it  ?  The 
people,  you  know,  so  far  in  the  country  are  quite  barbarians." 

Ellen,  perceiving  that  it  would  be  utterly  impossible  for 
Deborah  to  suppress  her  indignation  much  longer,  proposed 
withdrawing  from  the  table,  and  Deborah  assented,  loth  to 
retreat  without  giving  battle. 

As  they  left  the  dining-room,  the  British  officer,  who  had 
taken  his  seat  next  Miss  Redwood,  (and  who  was  the  same 
Captain  Fitzgerald  of  whom  she  had  made  such  honorable 
mention  in  a  letter  to  her  grandmother,)  said  to  her,  "  In  the 
name  of  heaven,  who  is  that  ancient  oddity  ?  I  saw  your 
father  address  her  as  he  came  into  the  room." 

"  She  is  a  Vermont  woman — a  demi-savage,  that  we  met  in 
our  travels." 

"  So  I  imagined — she  looks  like  a  Yankee  militia  major, 
dressed  in  his  mother's  wedding  gear  ;  but  that  pretty  girl 
with  her,  who  seems  to  belong  to  another  age  and  country,  who 
is  she  ?" 

"  The  one  in  black,  you  speak  of?" 

"Pardon  me — she  is  an  innocent-looking  little  concern 
enough,  but  I  spoke  of  the  other,  who  is  '  far  more  attractive 
metal.' " 

"  Oh,  she  is — I  don't  precisely  know — she  is  a  connection 
of  the  old  woman's — at  least  a  sort  of  dependent  on  her." 

Captain  Fitzgerald  observed  that  for  some  reason  or  other 
his  inquiry  had  IK.TU  displeasing  to  Miss  Redwood,  and  a  firm 
believer  in  whatever  impeaches  the  virtue  of  the  female  sex, 
he  remembered  the  cynical  rule  that  forbids  a  man  to  flatter 


REDWOOD.  343 

one  woman  ui  the  presence  of  another.  h  I  should  not  have 
noticed  the  young  lady,"  he  said,  "  but  there  has  been  such  an 
absolute  dearth  of  beauty  here  since  my  arrival  !  Upon  my 
soul.  Miss  Redwood,"  he  added,  with  a  prudent  depression  of 
voice,  "  I  should  have  forgotten  what  beauty  was  but  for  a  cer- 
tain bright  image  indelibly  stamped  on  the  tablets  of  my 
memory.  This  young  lady  had  one  indisputable  charm  ;  she 
was  your  herald — the  morning  star  that  preceded  the  sun — 
but  what  could  have  induced  a  civilized  being  to  come  to  a  wa- 
tering-place under  such  auspices  ?" 

'  My  evil  genius,'  thought  Caroline,  and  she  said,  "  I  think 
I  heard  they  were  going  to  visit  the  Shakers  in  the  vicinity. 
They  have  some  connections  there — I  fancy  they  have  merely 
stopped  here,  en  passant,  for  their  dinner ;  but  really,"  she 
concluded,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  "  I  know  nothing  about 
them  :  one  can't,  you  know,  fill  one's  head  with  the  affairs  of 
such  people." 

Mr.  Redwood  had  observed,  with  a  feeling  of  impatience, 
Captain  Fitzgerald's  devotion  to  his  daughter :  he  had  been 
waiting  for  a  pause  in  their  conversation,  which  was  conducted 
in  an  under-tone,  to  remind  her  '  that  she  had  not,'  as  he  said, 
'  yet  paid  her  respects  to  Miss  Bruce,  and  their  good  frien 
Deborah.' 

"  Shall  I  have  the  honor  of  conducting  you  to  the  drawing- 
room,  Miss  Redwood?"  asked  Westall,  who  had  been  long 
watching  for  an  opportunity  to  follow  Ellen 

"  Thank  you — no,  I  must  first  go  to  my  room  and  dispose 
of  my  riding-dress  ;  but  I  will  be  obliged  to  you  to  make  my 
apologies  to  the  Vermontese.  as  they  will  probably  be  gone  be- 
fore I  fcave  an  opportunity  of  seeing  them.  Come,  Mrs. 
Westafl,  shall  we  find  our  way  to  our  apartment  ?" 

^Excuse  my  mother,  Miss  Redwood,"  said  Westall.    '•  You 


344  REDWOOD. 

will  not,"  he  added,  turning  to  Mrs.  Westall,  "  risk  losing  the 
pleasure  of  seeiag  our  friends  ?" 

"  Certainly  not — I  will  first  go  with  Miss  Redwood,  and 
then  return  to  you,  Charles." 

"  Do  not  put  yourself  to  any  inconvenience  on  my  ac- 
count, Mrs.  Westall — the  attendance  of  my  servant  will  do* 
just  as  well  as  yours." 

Mrs.  Westall  felt  the  insulting  implication  of  Miss  Red- 
wood's reply.  She  had  been  blinded  by  her  self-love,  and  her 
next  strongest  passion — her  ambition  for  her  son.  Miss  Red- 
wood's sudden  and  exclusive  devotion  to  Fitzgerald  had  done 
more  towards  enlightening  her  mind  on  the  subject  of  the 
young  lady's  merits,  than  all  their  previous  intercourse,  and 
she  left  her  with  a  feeling  that  prepared  her  to  see  Ellen  in  the 
most  favorable  light. 


KEDWOOD.  345 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"  II  y  a  dans  1'esprit  humain  deux  forces  trfes  distinctes,  1'un  inspiie  le 
besoin  de  croire,  1'autre  celui  d'examiner."  —  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

OUR  readers  will  pardon  us  for  deferring  their  curiosity  (if 
indeed  they  have  any),  while  we  give  a  brief  expose  of  the  dif- 
ferent states  of  feeling  which  the  several  members  of  the  Red- 
wood party  brought  with  them  to  Lebanon.  After  Ellen's  de- 
parture from  Eton,  Mr.  Redwood,  no  longer  having  any  strong 
inclination  to  protract  his  stay  there,  made  arrangements  to 
recommence  his  journey  immediately.  He  took  leave  of  the 
Lenox  family  with  sincere  regret,  and  left  them  such  demon- 
strations of  his  gratitude  as  impressed  them  with  the  belief  ^^fl 


hjt  his  generosity  was  unbounded. 

He  travelled  very  slowly  in  obedience  to  the  advice  of  his 
physician  ;  but  notwithstanding  his  caution,  and  the  most  vigi- 
lant devotion  from  Charles  Westall,  he  found  his  health  daily 
diminishing,  and  he  proposed  to  relinquish  the  long-projected 
visit  to  Boston.  The  springs  in  August  offered  a  more  tempt- 
ing theatre  than  town.  Caroline  was  all  acquiescence  and 
sweetness,  and  the  travellers  proceeded  to  Lebanon. 

After  Ellen  left  Eton,  and  during  the  journey,  Caroline 
redoubled  her  assiduities  to  recover  her  lost  influence  over 
WestalL  "  Scarce  once  herself,  by  turns  all  womankind  ;"  she 
15* 


Stl 

^° 


346  REDWOOD. 

affected  every  grace,  she  pretended  to  every  virtue  that  she  be- 
lieved would  advance  her  designs.  Mrs.  Westall,  a  willing 
dupe,  believing  at  least  half  her  pretensions,  and  hoping  the 
future  might  verify  the  rest,  was  a  most  devoted  auxiliary  ; 
and  Mr.  Redwood  began  to  indulge  sanguine  expectations  that 
he  should  realize  his  dearest  hopes — he  augured  well  from 
Caroline's  serious  efforts  to  win  Westall' s  affections,  and  in 
spite  of  his  experience  and  habitual  despondency,  he  hoped 
every  thing  from  Westall's  influence  over  her. 

There  is  no  limit  to  the  power  of  a  strong  and  virtuous 
attachment,  but  that  Miss  Redwood  was  not  capable  of  feel- 
ing for  any  one,  and  certainly  did  not  for  Westall.  When  she 
first  saw  him,  his  fine  exterior  and  refined  manners  had  pleased 
her — accustomed  to  the  gallantries  of  admirers  till  they  had 
become  quite  indispensable,  and  having  no  other  subject  to  try 
the  power  of  her  charms  upon,  she  played  off  her  little  co- 
quetries on  him,  without  any  other  design  than  to  produce  a 
present  effect.  'Afterwards  the  matter  assumed  a  graver  cast 
— her  vanity — the  pride  of  beauty,  wealth,  and  station,  became 
interested  in  the  contest  with  Ellen — and  subsequently  still 
tronger  motives  stimulated  her  rivalry,  and  made  success  im- 
rtant. 

Never  was  there  a  man  who  had  less  of  the  coxcomb  than 
Westall,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  see  the  net  that  was  spread  in 
his  sight.  To  an  indifferent  observer  of  the  effect  of  Miss 
Redwood's  efforts,  it  would  have  been  plain  that '  the  lightnings 
played  on  the  impassive  ice,'  but  she  did  not  so  interpret 
Westall's  frequent  abstractions  and  studied  politeness  ;  for 
vanity  dulls  the  keenest  perceptions,  and  is  itself  at  least  as 
blind  as  love. 

When  the  party  arrived  at  Lebanon,  Mr.  Redwood's  first 
impulse  at  the  unexpected  sight  of  Ellen  was  sincere  pleasure ; 


REDWOOD.  347 

Caroline's,  alarm ;   Mrs.  Westall's,  regret ;   and  her  son's,  un- 
qualified delight. 

Ellen  persisted  in  secluding  herself  almost  wholly  in  her 
own  apartment :  she  resisted  the  solicitations  of  Mr.  Redwood, 
who  could  not  voluntarily  forego  the  pleasure  of  her  society, 
the  only  pleasure  of  which  he  now  seemed  susceptible ;  she 
studiously  avoided  meeting  Westall,  except  in  the  public 
rooms,  and  she  had  always  some  pretext  to  decline  the  walks 
he  proposed,  and  the  rides  he  arranged  to  include  her. 

Caroline,  who  seemed  only  to  notice  her  by  a  freezing  bow 
as  they  sometimes  met  in  their  passage  to  and  from  the  dining 
room,  really  watched  every  movement,  and  after  balancing  all 
the  motives  that  she  believed  could  operate  on  Ellen's  mind, 
she  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  her  rival  had  abandoned  the 
field.  This  somewhat  abated  her  own  ardor — the  devotion  of 
a  host  of  admirers,  who  were  crowding  around  her  for  recogni- 
tion or  introduction,  and  the  highly  seasoned  flatteries  of  Cap- 
tain Fitzge'fald,  gave  her  a  distaste  to  the  tame  civilities  of 
"Westall,  and  not  three  days  had  elapsed  before  she  was  vacil- 
lating between  the  gratification  of  her  pride  and  resentment, 
and  the  pleasure  of  granting  the  suit  which  Fitzgerald  was  ^ 
already  pressing  upon  her. 

Deborah  was  the  only  member  of  either  of  the  two  parties 
who  was  quite  satisfied  and  tranquil ;  but  she  was  determined, 
as  she  said,  not  to  come  so  far  and  spend  so  much  time  and 
money  without  having  her  '  pennyworth  of  pleasure.'  The 
affair  of  the  changeable  had  caused  her  but  a  momentary  vex- 
ation ;  the  only  indications  that  she  remembered  it  were,  that 
she  had  carefully  refolded  and  restored  it  to  her  trunk  without 
one  word  of  comment,  and  that  she  never  again  appeared  in 
that  ambitious  array.  If  ever  a  shadow  obscured  Deborah's 
good-nature-,  it  was  as  fleeting  as  an  April  cloud.  The  notice 


^^    in  th< 

Btood 


348  REDWOOD. 

of  Mr.  Redwood  and  Westall,  which  they  seemed  proud  of 
bestowing,  was  a  warrant  for  her  respectability.  And  though 
the  town-bred  young  ladies  thought  her  quite  terrible,  and  their 
beaus  pronounced  her  a  monster,  the  lovers  of  the  picturesque 
admired  her  figure  as  she  strided  through  the  rooms,  staring 
about  her  with  fearless  curiosity,  with  her  holiday  work  (her 
knitting)  in  her  hands.  She  was  sometimes  seen  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  boys,  relating  to  them  a  revolutionary  story  with 
all  the  animation  of  personal  experience ;  and  her  little  audi- 
tors (for  boys  are  natural  belligerents)  would  warm  with  the 
spirit  of  their  fathers,  and  long  to  '  fight  their  battles  o'er 
again.'  She  even  attracted  the  notice  of  the  French  Ambas- 
sador, who  made  many  inquiries  of  her  in  relation  to  the  mode 
of  agriculture  and  domestic  economy  of  our  common  farmers, 
and  seemed  so  satisfied  of  the  accuracy  and  intelligence  of 
her  replies,  that  he  condescended  to  record  them  in  his  note- 
book 

But  Deborah's  stable  mind  was  quite  unmoved  by  attention 
or  neglect.  She  inquired  every  body's  name,  and  learned 
something  of  every  body's  history.  She  sometimes  mingled 
in  the -crowd,  and  took  part  in  the  conversation,  and  sometimes 
aloof  making  her  own  observations.  In  short,  she  went 
up  and  down  wherever  she  listed  with  lawless  independence  ; 
and  her  sagacity,  simplicity,  and  good-nature  always  obtained 
her  sufferance,  and  sometimes  procured  her  attention  and  re- 
spect. 

This  was  the  posture  of  affairs  when  our  female  friends  on 
entering  the  parlor  one  morning  in  their  way  to  the  breakfast- 
room,  were  encountered  by  the  Armstead  party.  Miss  Camp- 
bell sprang  towards  Ellen,  exclaiming,  while  her  fine  face  wit- 
nessed her  sincerity,  "  My  dear  Miss  Bruce.  I  am  delighted  to 
find  you  are  not  gone  from  Lebanon.  I  should  have  died  with 


REDWOOD.  349 

uncertainty  and  impatience  the  last .  five  minutes,  but  that  I 
most  opportunely  met  my  friend  Charles  Westall,  at  whom  I 
have  been  putting  questions  about  you,  which  he  answered  as 
patiently  as  if  he  had  been  bred  in  the  Socratic  school — and, 
to  do  him  justice,  he  asked  as  many  as  he  answered.  But  how 
eomes  it,"  she  added,  hardly  allowing  Ellen  time  to  return  the 
kind  greetings  of  the  other  members  of  her  party,  "  how  comes 
it  that  you  have  not  mentioned  our  meeting,  and  the  fortunate 
incident  that  broke  the  ice  of  ceremony,  and  made  us  friends 
at  once?  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else  since,  at  least  it  has 
given  an  agreeable  hue  to  all  my  other  thoughts :  you  hesitate 
— you  were  too  modest  to  proclaim  your  own  heroism.  Oh, 
my  dear  Miss  Bruce,  the  days  are  past  when  one  might  •  do> 
good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  fame' — this  is  the  age  of 
display — of  publication.  However,  thanks  to  my  generous  in- 
terposition, you  have  lost  nothing  on  this  occasion  by  your 
modesty.  I  have  told  the  whole  story  to  Mr.  Westall — every 
particular  of  it  with  a  suitable  number  of  epithets  and  excla- 
mations, and  have  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him  put  all  his 
ohs  !  and  ahs  !  in  the  right  places,  and  with  the  right  empha- 
sis, and  conclude  with  a  '  just  like  Miss  Bruce.' 

"  But  here,"  she  continued,  seeming  at  least  not  to  notice 
the  deep  blush  that  suffused  Ellen's  cheeks,  "  here  comes  the 
eighth  wonder  of  the  world — the  beautiful  Miss  Redwood — 
and  we  common  mortals  must  fall  back  to  gaae  on  her." 

Caroline  entered  leaning  on  Mrs.  Westall's  arm,  her  father 
was  beside  her.  Captain  Fitzgerald  joined  them  as  they  came 
into  the  room,  and  they  passed  near  the  window  at  which 
Westall  and  the  ladies  were  standing.  Fitzgerald  recognized 
Miss  Campbell  in  a  dubious  inquiring  manner,  which  expressed, 
'  do  we  meet  as  friends  ?'  and  her  cold  bow,  replied  unequivo- 
cally, '  as  strangers.' 


350  REDWOOD. 

Caroline  turned  towards  "Westall — "  your  mother  and 
papa,"  she  said,  "have  settled  it  that  we  take  our  drive 
to  the  Shakers'  after  breakfast.  You  are  no  laggard,  and 
we  shall  depend  on  your  being  ready — and  do  be  so  good 
as  to  get  a  direction  from  Miss  Bruce  to  her  aunt,  the  elect 
lady." 

"  Your  aunt  the  elect  lady  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Campbell. 

"  No,  replied  Ellen,"  quite  unmoved  by  a  stroke  that  was 
meant  to  mortify  her,  "  I  have  no  aunt  among  the  Shakers, 
neither,  if  I  understand  their  order,  is  there  any  '  elect  lady.'" 

"  Oh,  I  was  mistaken  then,"  said  Caroline,  "  it  is  this  Miss 
Allen's  aunt,  that  I  allude  to — perhaps,"  she  added,  still  ad- 
dressing Westall,  "  you  may  persuade  her  to  go  with  us  as 
pioneer  :  she  must  be  quite  familiar  with  the  curiosities  of  the 
place,  and  possibly  she  may  favor  us  with  an  introduction  to 
eome  of  the  gifted  brethren." 

Poor  Emily  blushed  and  trembled  as  every  eye  turned  on 
her,  and  edging  herself  behind  Ellen,  she  whispered  in  all  sim- 
plicity, "  Do  tell  her  I  can't  go." 

u  My  dear  Emily,  Miss  Redwood  knows  you  cannot  go." 

"  Afraid  of  being  reclaimed,"  said  Caroline,  enjoying  the 
confusion  into  which  she  had  thrown  the  simple  girl.  "  Never 
mind,  child,  we  shall  do  very  well  without  you — I  will  trust  to 
luck  for  a  chance  to  quiz  some  of  the  old  broad-brims." 

"  Caroline,"  said  Mr.  Redwood,  "  we  shall  lose  our  places 
at  tje  breakfast  table  by  this  delay.  Do  you  go  with  us, 
Westall?" 

"  The  ladies  must  excuse  me  ;  I  have  an  engagement  after 
breakfast." 

Miss  Redwood  bit  her  lips  with  vexation,  and  then  turn- 
ing to  Captain  Fitzgerald,  "  Have  you,  too,  an  engagement  ?'' 
she  said. 


REDWOOD.  351 

"No  engagement  could  supersede  your  commands,  Miss 
Redwood,"  replied  the  gallant  captain. 

"Then  you  will  occupy  the  vacant  seat  in  our  carriage?" 

Fitzgerald  bowed  his  delighted  assent.  Mr.  Redwood  ask- 
ed Westall,  in  a  whisper,  if  his  engagement  would  interfere 
with  his  giving  him  half  an  hour  after  he  should  return  from 
his  ride  ?  Westall  replied,  "  certainly  not ;"  and  they  made  an 
appointment  to  meet  in  the  course  of  the  morning. 

Westall,  true  to  the  moment  of  his  appointment,  tapped  at 
Mr.  Redwood's  door,  and  was  admitted.  He  found  him  ex- 
tremely pale,  and  somewhat  agitated.  "  You  are  not,  sir,  I 
fear,  as  well  as  usual,  this  morning,"  he  said,  "  your  ride  has 
fatigued  you  ?;' 

"  I  am  as  well  as  usual,"  he  replied,  in  a  melancholy  tone, 
"  but  my  health  is  every  day  becoming  worse :  disease  would 
do  its  work  soon  enough,  but  there  are  other  causes  that  accel- 
erate my  decline :  he  paused  for  a  moment. — "  Westall,  I  am 
about  to  repose  a  confidence  in  you  that  I  never  knew  any 
other  man,  your  father  excepted,  worthy  of: — I  have  a  weight 
on  my  mind  from  which  you  only  can  relieve  me ;" — he  paused 
again,  and  seemed  embarrassed.  "  It  is  a  delicate  subject  I 
hoped — I  expected  that  you  would  have  first  spoken  to  me 
upon  it,  but  you  may  have  your  own  scruples — I  know  not — I 
am  lost  in  conjectures — at  any  rate  my  frankness  demands  an 
equal  frankness  in  return. 

"  Charles,"  he  continued  with  a  firmer  voice,  "  it  has  long 
been  my  favorite,  almost  my  only  project,  to  give  my  child  to 
you — to  obtain  for  myself  a  virtuous  son — to  secure  to  her  a 
safe  and  happy  destiny.  Your  father's  generosity  impaired 
your  inheritance  ;  Caroline's  will  supply  its  defects — my  daugh- 
ter loves  you — I  do  not  commit  her  delicac}^  in  saying  so — the 
sentiment  does  equal  credit  to  her  head  and  heart — how  long 


352  REDWOOD. 

it  will  endure  delay  on  your  part  I  cannot  say  :  she  is  a  flat- 
tered and  somewhat  spoiled  beauty — and  this  Fitzgerald  is 
laying  siege  to  her." 

At  this  moment  Westall  almost  wished  he  had  a  heart  to 
give  to  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Redwood ;  but  he  did  not  hesitate 
as  to  the  course  he  should  pursue :  after  saying  he  was  certain 
Mr.  Redwood  had  misunderstood  his  daughter's  sentiments  in 
relation  to  him,  he  made  a  manly  avowal  of  his  attachment  to 
Ellen,  and  related,  with  such  reserves  as  a  lover  would  be  apt 
to  make,  the  events  and  conversation  of  the  morning  of  her 
departure  from  Eton. 

Mr.  Redwood  was  quite  unprepared  for  this  communica- 
tion, for  though  his  acquaintance  with  Ellen  Bruce,  and  his 
vigilant  observation  of  Westall,  had  shaken  the  dominion  of 
his  long  cherished  dogma  of  the  selfishness  of  his  race,  and 
though  he  had  of  late  much  inclined  to  believe  there  were  prin- 
ciples that  might  modify  and  control  this  selfishness ;  yet  it 
seemed  to  him  utterly  incredible  that  a  young  man  without 
fortune,  without  patronage,  and  with  talents  to  generate  ambi- 
tion, should  forego  the  brilliant  advantages  of  an  alliance  with 
his  daughter,  for  the  sake  of  pure,  all-controlling  love,  such  as 
he  had  deemed  only  existed  in  romances  and  poetry,  and  was 
almost  too  obsolete  to  obtain  a  place  there. 

He  received  Westall's  disclosure  with  an  intense  interest. 
Admiration  for  his  young  friend,  and  bitter  disappointment  at 
the  utter  defeat  of  his  own  projects,  struggled  for  the  mastery: 
he  remained  silent  till  ^^restall  said,  "  You  may  deem  my  hopes 
presumptuous,  sir,  but  you  cannot,  I  am  certain,  think  them 
dishonorable  to  me." 

':  Dishonorable  !  no,  my  dear  Charles — my  only  wonder  is 
at  you  have  fallen  in  love  with  a  poor  little  girl,  who  has 
othing  but  the  best  heart  in  the  world  to  give  you — dishonor- 


REDWOOD.  353 

able  !  would  to  God  my  youth  had  been  rectified  by  the  prin- 
ciple that  governs  yours." 

Memory  and  conscience  were  busy,  and  sent  their  witness 
into  Redwood's  pallid  cheek.  "  Westall,  I  am  a  miserable  man 
— life  has  no  attractions — no  consolations  for  me — death  no 
repose.  I  had  a  deep  thirst  for  happiness — my  spirit  soared 
above  the  vulgar  pleasures  of  the  world,  but  I  have  fettered — 
wasted — degraded  it ;  and  now  I  suffer  the  fierce  pangs  of  re- 
morse for  the  past — of  despair  for  the  future.  Westall,  there 
is  a  misery  for  which  language  has  no  expression,  in  approach- 
ing the  grave  with  the  consciousness  of  having  lost  the  noble 
ends  for  which  life  was  given. 

"  Had  I  been  borne  along,  as  thousands  are,  like  a  leaf  upon 
the  waters,  and  left  no  trace  behind,  I  should  have  comparative 
peace  ;  but" — he  folded  his  hands  upon  his  breast — "  I  have 
dispossessed  this  temple  of  the  divinity  for  which  it  was  formed, 
I  have  destroyed  the  innocent — contaminated  the  pure — and 
my  child — my  only  child — the  immortal  creature  whose  destiny 
was  intrusted  to  me,  I  have  permitted  to  be  nursed  in  folly, 
and  devoted  to  the  world  without  a  moral  principle  or  influ- 
ence !" 

The  wild  melancholy  of  Redwood's  countenance,  and  the 
import  of  his  language,  alarmed  Westall : — "  Let  me  beseech 
you,  sir,"  said  he,  "  to  be  more  composed — your  strength  is 
unequal  to  the  agitation  of  your  spirits — you  know  not  what 
you  are  saying." 

"  Not  know  what  I  am  saying,"  he  replied,  with  a  bitter 
smile :  "  oh  Westall,  I  am  wearied  with  the  dreary  solitude  of 
my  own  mind — the  spirit  of  your  father,  young  man,  is  in  your 
face — his  gentleness  in  your  heart :  I  must  have  your  sympa- 
thy, your  aid — if  indeed  relief  is  possible.  I  have  sought 
relief  here,"  he  continued,  drawing  a  Bible  from  beneath  his 


354  REDWOOD. 

pillow ;  "  this  was  the  gift  of  your  sweet  Ellen.  At  midnight 
and  in  secrecy  I  have  explored  its  pages — and  I  believe  its 
record  is  true — at  least  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it ;  but  when 
the  evidence  of  its  divine  original  forces  its  way  to  my  convic- 
tions, the  arguments  and  the  ridicule  of  infidelity  recur  to  my 
mind,  and  the  habits  of  skepticism  hold  it  in;  suspense.  And 
if  it  be  true,  its  decisions  are  against  me— its  promises  are  all 
to  the  pious,  the  upright,  and  the  benevolent." 

"  And  is  there  no  promise  to  the  penitent  ?"  asked  West- 
all.  "  Believe  me,  this  book  contains  the  provisions  of  a 
father  for  his  children ;  and  there  is  no  condition  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  no  modification  of  human  destiny,  which  they  can- 
not reach." 

"  Do  not,  Charles,  make  me  the  dupe  of  my  necessities ;  do 
not  send  the  light  of  hope  into  my  mind,  to  render  the 
darkness  that  shall  succeed  more  horrible.  Of  what  avail  can 
be  that  penitence  into  which  we  are  scourged  by  the  fear  of  the 
future  ?  Charles,  I  have  already  gone  too  far  with  you  for  half- 
way confidence,  and  I  have  no  longer  any  motive  for  reserve. 
As  I  draw  near  the  limit  o,f  life,  the  opinion  of  my  fellow-men, 
which  ha?  ruled  me  with  despotic  control,  is  reduced  to  its  real 
insignificance.  I  ask  your  patience,  while  I  relate  to  you  some 
events  of  my  life,  of  which  there  is  now  no  record,  but  that 
which  is  written  as  with  the  point  of  a  diamond  on  my  con- 
science." 

"  You  are  wearied  already  with  the  exertions  of  this  morn- 
ing," said  Westall,  with  instinctive  delicacy,  "  had  you  not  better 
suspend  our  conversation  for  the  present  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear  friend,  nothing  will  refresh  me  so  much  as 
unburthening  my  heart  to  you. — I  have  now  nerved  myself  to 
the  effort,  and  I  feel  equal  to  it — I  may  never  again." 

He  then  proceeded  to  relate  the  circumstances  of  his  life 


REDWOOD.  355 

with  which  our  readers  are  already  acquainted.  His  narrative 
was  often  interrupted  by  emotions  too  strong  to  be  repressed ; 
and  as  he  concluded,  he  said  to  West-all,  who  had  listened  in 
breathless  silence,  "  You  now  perceive,  Charles,  what  reason  I 
have  for  remorse." 

"  But  why,"  asked  Westall,  stimulated  by  a  governing  feel- 
ing of  compassion  to  suggest  something  that  might  alleviate 
Mr.  Redwood's  misery,  "  why  this  deep  remorse  ?  Your  life 
has  been  stained  but  by  one  criminal  action,  and  that  commit- 
ted in  the  thoughtless  period  of  youth." 

"  Ah,  Charles !  do  not  soften  matters  to  me  now — that  one 
action  has  cast  its  dark  shadows  over  every  period  of  my  life : 
say  you  one  criminal  action  ?  what  call  you  my  total  neglect  of 
my  daughter?  what  that  cold  indifference  to  the  happiness  of 
the  human  family  which  has  permitted  me  to  lock  those  talents  in 
my  own  breast,  which  might  have  been  employed  for  their  bene- 
fit ? — what  kind  term  will  you  bestow  on  my  cold  skepticism  ? 
what  on  my  useless,  daring  speculations  ?  No,  no,  my  friend," 
he  added,  impetuously,  "  you  must  not — cannot  flatter  me  now 
— it  is  too  late — I  have  learned  truly  to  estimate  the  barren- 
ness, the  misery  of  that  life  which  has  no  higher  obj  ?cts  of 
pursuit  than  those  that  perish  in  the  using.  I  must  endure 
the  effects  of  that  folly  which  passes  by  the  pure  fountains  of 
happiness  in  the  path  of  life,  and  of  that  selfishness  which 
makes  a  dreary  desert  of  the  world. 

"  I  was  made  for  something  better  than  a  man  of  the  world. 
This  consciousness,  which  has  never  forsaken  me,  has  sharpened 
the  sting  of  conscience,  and  has  made  me  probably  suffer  more 
and  enjoy  less,  than  most  men  would  have  done  in  my  circum- 
stauccs.  Do  not  reply  to  me  now.  Charles.  You  are  in  no 
state  of  mind  to  give  me  the  counsel  and  aid  I  so  much  need. 
I  perceive  the  compassionate  interest  that  I  have  awakened, 


\ 

356  REDWOOD. 

and  am  grateful  for  it.  Once  I  should  have  scorned  it,  but 
now  it  is  balm  to  my  hurt  mind. 

"  With  my  present  feelings,  "Westall,  you  will  not  be  sur- 
prised at  my  anxiety  to  make  all  the  amends  in  my  power  to 
my  daughter  for  my  neglect  of  her.  I  am  not  blind  to  her 
faults — they  are,  alas,  too  glaring  not  to  be  seen  ;  but  I  hoped 
every  thing  from  her  youth  and  the  influence  of  your  character: 
and  I  thought,  and  still  think,  that  she  has  a  deeper  interest  in 
you  than  I  believed  her  capable  of  feeling  in  any  one.  But 
that  is  all  past — it  was  my  last  dream — you  have  chosen  well 
I  cannot  boast  my  principles — but  Ellen  suits  my  tastes  ;  and 
feeling  her  loveliness  as  I  have  felt  it,  I  cannot  now  but  wonder 
that  I  ever  should  have  indulged  the  extravagant  expectation 
that  you  would  fix  your  affections  elsewhere.  Charles,  your 
sweet  friend  resembles  the  only  person  I  ever  truly  loved; 
resembles  her  in  her  face  and  figure,  and  still  more  in  the  gen- 
tleness and  purity  of  her  character.  Oh,  had  I  possessed  such 

a  child  ! poor  Caroline  !  The  world  would  wonder,  Westall, 

if  it  knew  that  the  beautiful  idol  to  whom  it  renders  homage 
is  the  object  of  her  father's  pity — of  his  remorse — but  I  forget 
your  interest  in  my  perpetual  recurrence  to  my  own  anxieties. 

"  You  must  persuade  Ellen  to  give  up  her  scruples  in  re- 
gard to  her  mother's  restrictions  ;  there  can  be  but  one  rational 
opinion  about  them.  She  was  doubtless  some  sentimental  de- 
luded young  creature,  whose  tenderness  for  her  offspring  in- 
duced her  to  devise  this  innocent  little  artifice  to  keep  her  in 
ignorance  of  her  parentage." 

Westall  had  too  entire  a  sympathy  with  Ellen  to  regard 
the  matter  in  this  light,  but  he  declared  with  sincerity,  that 
though  on  her  account  he  trusted  that  her  long  cherished  hopes 
might  not  be  disappointed,  as  far  as  related  to  his  own  feelings, 
the  result  would  be  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference. 


REDWOOD.  357 

"  No  parentage,"  he  said,  "  could  confer  honor  on  Miss 
Bruce — none  could  touch  the  essential  dignity  of  her  char- 
acter." 

Mr.  Redwood  smiled  at  his  enthusiasm  ;  but  he  respected 
it.  He  entreated  Westall  to  give  him  as  much  of  his  time  as 
possible ;  '  he  knew,'  he  said,  '  that  it  would  be  a  sacrifice  to 
him,  but  he  believed  that  sacrifices  were  neither  difficult  nor 
painful  to  those  who  were  habitually  disinterested.' 

Mr.  Redwood  expressed  the  greatest  anxiety  in  regard  to 
Fitzgerald's  attentions  to  his  daughter.  He  said  he  had 
learned  that  this  gentleman  was  a  younger  branch  of  a  noble 
family,  turned  into  the  army  to  seek  his  fortune  in  military 
life,  for  which  he  had  no  other  qualifications  than  a  fine  figure 
and  handsome  face — and  that  moreover  he  was  distinguished 
among  the  officers  of  his  regiment  for  his  dissipated  habits. 

These  were  certainly  sufficient  grounds  of  alarm ;  and 
they  increased  now  to  a  frightful  degree  the  harassed  and 
troubled  state  of  mind  which  seemed  to  be  hastening  Mr.  Red- 
wood to  the  grave. 

At  one  moment  he  resolved  to  leave  the  springs  immedi- 
ately, and  the  next  was  convinced  that  he  was  unequal  to  the 
effort.  Westall  remained  with  him  until  summoned  away  by 
the  dinner  bell ;  he  then  left  him  somewhat  tranquillized,  and 
with  the  resolution  that  he  would  spare  no  efforts  to  minister 
to  the  peace  of  his  mind.  Such  was  the  benevolent  interest 
he  felt  in  him,  that  he  would  have  compassed  sea  and  land  to 
inspire  him  with  a  just  hope  and  a  quiet  resignation. 


358  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  Call  you  this  a  quiz  ?"  said  my  uncle  ;  "  in  my  day  it  would  have  been 
called  a  lie." — PLAIN  DEALEB. 

Miss  CAMPBELL  valued  herself  on  never  feeling  or  doing  any 
thing  by  halves — she  had  taken  a  decided  liking  to  Ellen — 
with  her  cordial  admiration  there  mingled  a  little  of  the  pride 
of  a  discoverer ;  a  complacent  sense  of  the  merit  of  having 
first  felt  Miss  Bruce's  attractions,  and  asserted  her  claims. 
She  attached  herself  almost  exclusively  to  her,  and  Westall 
was  delighted  to  observe  after  dinner  that  Ellen,  instead  of  re- 
tiring immediately  to  her  own  room  as  usual,  accompanied 
Miss  Campbell  and  her  party  to  the  drawing-room.  Miss 
Kedwood  observed  that  he  was  following  them — she  beckoned 
to  him  and  said,  "  Be  good  enough  to  tell  Miss  Deborah,  that 
during  my  ride  this  morning  I  met  her  neighbor  Martin.  I 
stopped  him  to  inquire  after  the  Lenoxes.  He  told  me  they, 
were  all  well  excepting  old  Mrs.  Allen,  who  is  very  ill,  and 
afraid  she  shall  not  live  to  see  her  grandchild." 

Westall  went  most  unwillingly  to  deliver  a  message  which 
must  hasten  Ellen's  departure.  Fitzgerald  had  overheard  the 
communication,  and  looked  at  Caroline  inquisitively. 

"  A  ruse  de  guerre,"  she  whispered.  ':  It  is  such  a  bore  to 
meet  that  giant.  Miss  Debby  and  her  suite  at  every  turn,  that 
I  have  tasked  my  invention  to  get  rid  of  them." 


REDWOOD.  359 

"  Oh,  a  quiz,  admirable — skill  against  ignorance — the  only 
mode  of  warfare  with  savages.  'Pon  my  honor,  Miss  Red- 
wood, I  cannot  imagine  how  you  have  survived  your  exile 
among  those  barbarians.  The  condition  of  society  in  these 
northern  states  is  quite  terrible — insufferable  to  those  whose 
felicity  it  has  been  to  live  where  the  natural  distinctions  of  rank 
are  preserved." 

"  I  assure  you,  Captain  Fitzgerald,  I  was  excessively  an- 
noyed. I  found  it  quite  impossible  to  make  those  people  feel 
they  were  not  my  equals." 

"  Your  equals  !  good  heavens  !  had  the  animais  '  organs, 
senses,  affections,  passions !'  Would  to  heaven,1'  he  added, 
lowering  his  voice,  "  Miss  Redwood  would  consent  to  go  where 
the  eye  and  the  heart  will  confess  that  she  has  no  equal." 

"That would  be  heaven,  indeed  !"  replied  Caroline,  turning 
her  eye  on  Fitzgerald  with  an  expression  that  authorized  his 
most  daring  hopes. 

"Yes,  heaven,"  he  replied,  "not  a  puritanical  heaven  of 
liberty  and  equality,  but  a  place  where  beauty,  rank,  and 
fashion,  are  far  above  this  plebeian  fog — a  place  worthy  of  you, 
Miss  Redwood,  where  there  are  queens,  and  subjects,  and  wor- 
shippers— love  and  loyalty." 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  long  the  Captain  would  have 
continued  his  battery,  had  not  his  fluency  been  suddenly 
checked  by  one  of  those  provoking  interruptions  to  which  all 
lovers  are  liable.  Mrs.  Westall,  to  whom  Mr.  Redwood  (too 
ill  to  appear  at  dinner)  had  consigned  his  daughter,  tired  of 
playing  solitaire  while  her  fair  protegee  was  all  eye  and  ear  for 
Fitzgerald,  and  deaf  and  dumb  to  every  body  else,  took  the 
liberty  to  remark  that  all  the  ladies  except  themselves  had  re- 
tired from  the  table,  and  rising  at  the  same  moment,  she  pro- 
posed to  Caroline  an  adjournment  to  the  drawing-room. 


360  REDWOOD. 

Miss  Redwood  would  rather  have  deferred  the  movement, 
for  she  dreaded  encountering  Deborah.  "  Come  with  us."  she 
whispered  to  Fitzgerald,  who  stood  with  deference  awaiting  the 
ladies'  departure :  "  if  we  are  obliged  to  meet  the  old  amazon, 
heaven  help  us  !  we  shall  need  all  our  combined  skill  to  parry 
her  downright  questions." 

"As  your  auxiliary,  Miss  Redwood,"  replied  Fitzgerald, 
proceeding  towards  the  drawing-room  with  the  ladies,  "  I  fear 
nothing :  but  upon  my  soul,  without  a  divinity  to  inspire  me,  I 
should  never  muster  courage  to  encounter  one  of  these  ques- 
tion-asking Yankees.  I  had  rather  march  up  to  the  cannon's 
mouth." 

"  Thank  heaven,"  said  Caroline,  casting  her  eyes  around 
the  drawing-room,  and  ascertaining  that  Deborah  was  not 
there,  "  we  are  safe  for  the  present.  If  you  will  open  the 
piano  for  me,  Captain  Fitzgerald,  I  will  play  the  air  you  were 
asking  for  this  morning." 

Captain  Fitzgerald  arranged  the  piano — Miss  Redwood 
took  her  seat  at  it,  and  Mrs.  Westall  left  her  and  joined  Ellen, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  in  an  animated 
conversation  with  Grace  Campbell. 

"Your  fair  friend,  Mrs.  "Westall,"  said  Miss  Campbell, 
"has  certainly  made  a  conquest  of  Captain  Fitzgerald — 
a  conquest  that  I  suspect  will  lead  very  soon  to  an  amicable 
treaty." 

"  Appearances  justify  your  opinion,  certainly,"  replied  Mrs. 
Westall ;  "  and  provided  Mr.  Redwood  ratifies  the  treaty.  I 
know  no  one  that  will  interpose,  or  even  feel  an  objection." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Campbell,  "  I  have  no  particu- 
lar admiration  for  Miss  Redwood  :  but  I  declare  to  you,  I  think 
she  is  too  young  and  too  beautiful  to  be  sacrificed  to  a  mere 
fortune-hunter." 


REDWOOD.  361 

"  She  is  heartless,"  replied  Mrs.  Westall,  "  and  therefore 
fair  game  for  a  fortune-hunter." 

Charles  Westall  noticed  that  his  mother  spoke  with  uncom- 
mon asperity ;  but  her  gentlest  tones  had  never  delighted  him 
so  much,  as  an  expression  that  indicated  a  state  of  feeling 
which  he  had  long  hoped  that  her  own  observation  and  reflec- 
tions would  produce  without  his  interference.  He  perceived 
that  she  was  completely  alienated  from  Miss  Redwood,  and 
that  the  reaction  of  her  feelings  was  all  in  Ellen's  favor, 
and  with  a  very  pardonable  filial  enthusiasm,  he  mentally 
congratulated  himself  on  always  having  believed  that  his 
mother's  good  sense  and  good  feeling  would  finally  rectify  her 
opinions. 

Probably  Ellen's  thoughts  had  received  a  direction  from 
Mrs.  Westall's  observation  ;  but  suddenly  recalling  them  to 
the  point  whence  they  had  started,  she  asked  Miss  Campbell  '  if 
she  thought  Fitzgerald  was  really  in  love  with  Caroline  Red- 
wood ?' 

"  In  love  ! — Oh  my  sweet  innocent,  in  what  blessed  igno- 
rance of  the  present  generation  you  must  have  lived.  In  love 
— no,  believe  me  there  is  no  love  extant,  unless  it  be,"  and  she 
glanced  her  laughing  eyes  with  most  provoking  significance 
towards  Westall,  "  unless  it  be  on  the  shores  of  romantic  lakes, 
or  in  such  sweet  sequestered  vales  as  you  describe  that  in  which 
your  friend  Mrs.  Harrison  resides.  Fitzgerald  in  love  ! — his 
device  is  a  golden  arrow — his  motto,  the  old  proverb — '  without 
Ceres  and  Bacchus,  love  is  cold.'  " 

';  Shame  on  you,  Grace,"  said  young  Armstead,  "  you  are 
a  most  ungracious  girl.  You  should  adopt  the  mode  of  some 
pretty  simpering  fair  ones  of  my  acquaintance  who  imitate  be- 
reaved widows,  and  always  speak  of  their  late  lovers  as  they  do 
of  their  deceased  husbands,  with  a  '  poor  dear'  prefixed  to  their 
16 


362  REDWOOD. 

names.  '  Poor  dear  Fitzgerald'  would  be  a  becoming  mention 
of  one  of  your  most  devoted  worshippers." 

"  It  was  to  the  golden  trappings  of  the  idol  that  Fitzgerald 
bowed,  William  :  his  sacrifice  was  like  the  priests  of  Baal,  the 
fire  came  not  near  it." 

"  You  may  carry  your  analogy  still  farther,  Grace  ;  for  to 
your  praise  be  it  spoken,  there  was  '  no  voice,  nor  answer,  nor 
any  that  regarded.' " 

"I  deserve  no  praise  for  that,"  replied  Miss  Campbell, 
while  a  smile  betrayed  that  she  was  not  displeased  to  have  it 
known  that  she  disdained  the  flatteries  of  Miss  Redwood's  ad- 
mirer :  "  I  deserve  no  praise  for  seeing  through  that  soulless 
creature — a  mere  parade-day  officer,  who  dishonors  the  uniform 
worn  by  so  many  heroes.  You  and  I,  "William,  were  brought 
up  in  the  old  school,  nursed  in  Anglo-American  prejudices, 
taught  to  believe  that  all  virtue,  valor,  genius,  were  of  British 
birth  and  growth :  experience  has  abated  some  of  the  articles 
of  my  creed,  and  softened  others.  I  have  seen  many  an  Ame- 
rican shop-boy,  many  a  gawky  young  farmer,  who  had  more 
cleverness  than  such  a  British  officer  as  Fitzgerald :  more 
knowledge,  more  of  every  thing  that  is  essentially  respectable/' 
-  "  You  are  so  enlightened,  Miss  Campbell,"  said  "Weetall. 
"  you  should  disabuse  some  of  your  fair  countrywomen  of  their 
prejudices." 

"  It  is  impossible,  utterly  impossible.  Such  an  enterprise 
would  be  as  rational  as  a  crusade  against  artificial  flowers  and 
ostrich  feathers.  So  long  as  these  red-coated  gentry  shall  play 
the  most  elegant  game  at  chess  or  whist — hand  a  lady  to  the 
dinner-table  in  the  most  graceful  manner — carve  the  dish  next 
her  secundum  artem,  and  in  short,  perform  all  the  little  eti- 
quettes of  society  with  unparalleled  grace,  they  must  remain 
the  favorite  ornaments  of  our  drawing-rooms — our  fair  ladies 


REDWOOD.  363 

will  overlook  their  little  irregularities  in  morals  ;  and  rational 
and  virtuous  men,  like  you,  Mr.  Westall,  and  my  cousin  Wil- 
liam, (you  do  not  merit  the  compliment  from  me,  Will,  but  I 
put  you  in  to  make  the  party  stronger,)  such  men  must  yield 
to  them  the  precedence." 

"  Oh,  Grace  !"  said  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  little  did  I  ever  ex- 
pect to  hear  such  a  philippic  against  any  thing  British  from 
the  lips  of  one  of  your  grandfather's  descendants." 

"  My  dear  aunt,  you  mistake  me  if  you  imagine  that  I 
mean  to  limit  my  criticisms  to  our  foreign  military  beaux — 
no,  unfortunately  we  have  a  large  class  of  native  productions 
that  have  equal  claims  to  a  polished  exterior,  and  essential 
good-for-nothingness.  If  my  dear  grandpapa  could  take  a 
peep  into  my  heart  at  this  moment,  he  would  be  quite  satisfied 
with  the  loyal  affection  I  bear  to  the  land  of  his  birth ;  and  I 
flatter  myself  that  the  old  gentleman,  belonging  as  he  doubt- 
less does  now  to  the  universal  nation  of  the  good  and  happy, 
would  rejoice  that  his  descendants  are  all  Americans,  and  only 
attached  to  the  parent  land  by  the  indissoluble  ties  of  respect 
and  of  affection.  I  do  not  believe  that  we  '  love  Caesar  less,' 
but  we  certainly  '  love  Rome  more.'  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  Grace,"  replied  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  I  am 
glad  to  find  that  if  you  have  caught  the  national  enthusiasm, 
the  epidemic  of  the  day,  you  are  not  a  traitor  to  England." 

"  So  far  from  it,  mother,"  said  young  Armstead,  "  that  I 
will  hazard  a  prophecy,  that  within  six  months  from  this  fif- 
teenth day  of  August,  our  cousin  Grace  will  be  the  wife  of  an 
Englishman." 

"  You  are  a  false  prophet,  Will." 

"  Time,  not  you,  Grace,  must  pronounce  that  decision  ;  and 
I  call  this  honorable  company  to  witness  that  I  rest  my  pro- 
phetic fame  upon  this  prediction." 


364  REDWOOD. 

By  a  natural  train  of  thought.  Mr.  Howard,  whom  Ellen 
had  seen  devoted  to  Miss  Campbell  when  they  met  at  the  vil- 
lage-inn, occurred  to  her  mind,  and  she  asked  Grace  '  why  he 
was  not  still  of  her  party  ?' 

"  He  was  suddenly  summoned  away,"  she  replied,  "  by  let- 
ters from  home :"  and,  to  avert  observation  from  her  rising 
color,  she  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  stand  to  my  prediction,  Grace,"  whispered  Armstead, 
"  in  spite  of  your  treacherous  blushes." 

"  Mr.  Westall,"  exclaimed  Miss  Campbell,  "  you  were  in- 
quiring for  Deborah,  here  she  comes  with  the  little  Shaker." 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  Miss  Campbell,"  said  Ellen,  "  do  not 
let  Emily  hear  you  call  her  so.  The  poor  child  has  been 
frightened  to  death  since  Miss  Redwood's  address  to  her  this 
morning  made  her  an  object  of  notice.  Her  story  is  now,  I 
am  told,  though  fortunately  she  does  not  know  it,  in  every 
body's  mouth." 

Westall  met  Deborah  at  the  door,  and  drew  her  aside  to 
communicate  Miss  Redwood's  message.  Emily  entered  the 
room  alone,  and  looking  fearfully  around  her. 

"  Poor  little  timid,  distressed  thing,"  said  Miss  Campbell, 
"  she  looks  like  a  lamb  that  has  strayed  from  the  shepherd  into 
a  company  of  wolves." 

Ellen  advanced  towards  the  bashful  girl,  and  drawing  Emi- 
ly's arm  within  her  own,  she  led  her  to  a  seat,  where  she  was 
sheltered  from  observation. 

Westall  qualified  the  information  he  reluctantly  communi- 
cated to  Deborah,  and  urged  that  one  day's  delay  could  not  be 
of  consequence.  She,  however,  with  her  usual  promptitude, 
determined  to  leave  the  springs  the  next  morning,  and  imme- 
diately announced  her  determination  to  her  companions,  with- 
out deeming  it  necessary  to  avow  the  cause  of  it. 


REDWOOD.  365 

A  bright  beam  of  pleasure  shot  from  Emily's  eyes.  Ellen's 
turned  involuntarily  towards  Charles  Westall,  and  one  brief 
glance  contradicted  all  her  well-maintained  reserve  and  scru- 
pulous silence. 

Loud  exclamations  expressive  of  disappointment  from  all 
the  Armstead  party,  and,  louder  than  all  the  rest  Miss  Camp- 
bell's, attracted  a  momentary  attention  from  Miss  Redwood. 
She  paused  in  the  midst  of  the  successful  performance  of  a 
favorite  march,  and  exchanged  a  significant  nod  with  Fitz- 
gerald ;  she  then  struck  the  notes  with  a  stronger  hand,  but 
she  could  not  drown  the  unwelcome  sounds  of  '  do,  Miss  Bruce, 
stay  one  day  longer  ' — '  Oh,  Miss  Debby,  one  day  cannot  make 
any  difference — just  one  day.' 

But  Miss  Deborah,  affirming  that  it  had  all  along  been  her 
intention  to  go  within  a  day  or  two,  remained  inexorable,  and 
the  young  ladies  left  the  drawing-room  to  arrange  their  affairs 
for  their  departure 

Mrs.  Westall  followed  Ellen  to  the  stairs,  and  detaining 
*  her  there  till  her  companions  had  passed  up,  she  said,  "  If  my 
feelings  or  wishes  have  ever  done  you  injustice,  forgive  me, 
Ellen — believe  me,  there  is  now  but  one  other  so  dear — so  in- 
teresting to  me  as  you  are." 

Ellen  faltered  out,  "  I  am  very  grateful,"  and  turned  hastily 
away,  leaving  Mrs.  Westall  quite  satisfied  with  the  significance 
which  her  glowing  cheek  and  moistened  eye  gave  to  her  scanty 
expression. 

Ellen  had  scarcely  reached  her  own  apartment  when  Miss 
Campbell  came  running  to  her  quite  out  of  breath  :  "  Suspend 
your  packing  operations,  my  dear  Ellen,"  she  said,  "  and  sit 
down  and  listen  to  me  for  a  moment.  I  cannot  be  ceremonious 
with  you — I  have  the  greatest  favor  to  ask  of  you — and  you 
cannot,  must  not  deny  me.  Will  you  remain  here  for  ten  days 


366  REDWOOD. 

as  my  guest  ?  I  bar  a  negative.  Now  do  not  make  up  your 
mouth  for  any  excuses  till  you  have  heard  me  out.  You  told 
ine  this  morning  that  your  old  friend,  Mrs.  Allen,  no  longer 
needed  your  services,  and  that  you  were  only  going  this  round- 
about way  to  Vermont,  because  you  had  no  other  way  of  get- 
ting to  Mrs.  Harrison.  Now,  my  aunt  is  going  to  Boston. — 
she  has  a  vacant  seat  in  her  carriage — Lansdown  is  but  a  few 
miles  off  the  direct  route,  and  my  aunt  says  nothing  will  de- 
light her  so  much  as  to  take  you  to  Mrs.  Harrison.  She  bids 
me  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Harrison  was  an  acquaintance  of  her 
mother's,  and  that  you  must  not  refuse  her  an  introduction  to 
her." 

Ellen's  decision  vibrated  between  a  strong  inclination  to 
remain,  and  a  natural  reluctance  (which  even  Miss  Campbell's 
extreme  cordiality  could  not  remove)  to  receive  such  favors 
from  persons  nearly  strangers  to  her.  While  she  deliberated, 
and  Grace  Campbell  urged  her  request,  they  were  interrupted 
by  a  servant  who  brought  Ellen  a  note. 

"  This  note,  whoever  it  comes  from,"  said  Miss  Campbell, 
"  will,  I  trust,  induce  you  to  decide  to  remain.  You  seem  now 
as  much  puzzled  as  poor  Launcelot  Gobbo  was  with  the  oppos- 
ing counsel  of  the  fiend  and  his  conscience.  Conscience  is  on 
my  side,  I  am  sure." 

"  And  the  note,  too,"  said  Ellen,  refolding  it ;  -  and  now, 
if  Miss  Deborah  will  relinquish  her  right  to  me,  I  will  throw 
away  all  squeamishness,  and  gratefully  accept  your  invitation." 

The  note  was  from  Mr.  Redwood,  and  contained  an  earnest 
entreaty  that  Ellen  would  defer  her  departure  for  a  few  days. 
It  was  written  hastily,  was  almost  illegible,  and  concluded  thus : 
"  I  once  meditated  an  injury  against  you — it  is  now  my  earnest 
wish  to  repair  the  fault  of  that  intention — my  life  is  fast  ebb- 
ing— do  not  refuse  the  last  favor  I  can  ever  ask  of  you." 


REDWOOD.  367 

The  note  Ellen  rightly  believed  was  the  fruit  of  West-all's 
intervention,  but  he  could  not  have  dictated  the  purport  of  it, 
and  her  delicacy  was  satisfied,  now  that  she  had  a  motive  to 
rcimin  independent  of  her  lover.  The  ladies  proceeded  to 
Miss  Deborah's  apartment,  and  she,  having  heard  the  proposed 
arrangement,  acquiesced  with  her  usual  rationality. 

She  seated  herself  on  her  trunk,  and  resting  her  elbows  on 
her  knees :  "  Not  but  what  I  am  loth  to  part  with  you,  Ellen," 
she  said,  "  for  the  Lord  knows,"  and  she  brushed  a  tear  from 
the  corner  of  her  eye,  "  nobody  ever  wanted  to  leave  you  yet ; 
but  then  there  is  reason  in  all  things — you  have  taken  a  long 
journey,  all  for  those  that's  neither  kith  nor  kin  to  you,  and 
now  that  you  are  happy  among  your  mates,  it  is  but  fair  you 
should  have  a  playspell :  besides,  it  would  be  rather  tough  for 
our  poor  old  horse  to  draw  us  all  over  the  hills,  and  he  should 
be  considered  too — to  be  sure  I  calculated  to  walk  up  the  hills, 
but  then  I  have  come  to  that  time  of  life  when  I  had  rather 
ride  than  walk — so  all  is  for  the  best." 

"  We  can  all  say  '  amen'  to  that.  Miss  Deborah,"  said  Miss 
Campbell ;  "  you  are  a  perfect  philosopher.  I  am  delighted — 
Ellen  looks  resigned — and  your  little  Emily  there  most  pro- 
vokingly  happy." 

"  Well,"  replied  Debby,  "  contentment  is  a  good  thing,  and 
a  rare — but  I  guess  it  dwells  most  where  people  would  least 
expect  to  find  it.  There's  Ellen  Bruce,  she  has  had  troubles 
that  would  fret  some  people  to  death,  and  yet  I  have  seldom 
seen  her  with  a  cloudy  face." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  that,  Miss  Debby  ?  I  am  curi- 
ous to  get  at  this  secret  of  happiness ;  for  I  have  been  in  great 
straits  sometimes,  for  the  want  of  it." 

"  Why,  I'll  tell  you.  Now.  Ellen,  I  don't  mean  to  praise 
you" — and  she  looked  at  Ellen,  while  an  expression  of  affection 


368  REDWOOD. 

spread  over  her  rough-featured  face.  "  The  truth  is,  Ellen  has 
been  so  busy  about  making  other  people  happy,  that  she  has 
no  time  to  think  of  herself;  instead  of  grieving  about  her 
own  troubles,  she  has  tried  to  lessen  other  people's ;  instead  of 
talking  about  her  own  feelings  and  thinking  about  them,  you 
would  not  know  she  had  any,  if  you  did  not  see  she  always 
knew  just  how  other  people  felt." 

"  Stop,  stop,  Deborah,  my  good  friend,"  said  Ellen  \  "  you 
must  not  turn  flatterer  in  your  old  age." 

"  Flatterer  ! — The  Lord  have  mercy  on  you,  girl ;  nothing 
was  farther  from  my  thoughts  than  flattering.  I  meant  just 
to  tell  this  young  lady  for  her  information,  that  the  secret  of 
happiness  was  to  forget  yourself,  and  care  for  the  happiness  of 
others." 

"  You  are  right — I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Miss  Camp- 
bell, with  animation j  "  though  I  have  practised  very  little 
after  your  golden  rule." 

"  The  mor.e's  the  pity,  young  woman  ;  for,  depend  on't,  it's 
the  safe  rule  and  the  sure ;  I  have  scriptur  warrant  for  it,  be- 
side my  own  observation,  which,  as  you  may  judge,  has  not  been 
small.  It's  a  strange  thing  this  happiness  :  it  puts  me  in  mind 
of  an  old  Indian  I  have  heard  of,  who  said  to  a  boy,  who  wa? 
begging  him  for  a  bow  and  arrow,  '  the  more  you  say  bow  and 
arrow,  the  more  I  won't  make  it.'  There's  poor  Mr.  Redwood, 
as  far  as  I  can  find  out  he  has  had  nothing  all  his  life  to  do 
but  to  go  up  and  down  and  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth,  in 
search  of  happiness ;  look  at  his  face,  it  is  as  sorrowful  as  a 
tombstone,  and  just  makes  you  ponder  upon  what  has  been, 
and  what  might  have  been  ;  and  his  kickshaw  of  a  daughter — 
why  I,  Debby  Lenox,  a  lone  old  woman  that  I  am,  would  not 
change  places  with  her — would  not  give  up  my  peaceable  feel- 
ings for  hers,  for  all  the  gold  in  the  king's  coffers  :  and  for  the 


REDWOOD.  369 

most  part,  since  I  have  taken  a  peep  into  what's  called  the 
world,  I  have  seen  little  to  envy  among  the  great  and  the  gay, 
the  rich  and  handsome." 

"  And  yet,  Miss  Debby,"  said  Grace,  "  the  world  looks 
upon  these  as  the  privileged  classes." 

"  Ah  !  the  world  is  foolish,  and  stupid  besides." 

"Well,  Miss  Deborah,  I  have  unbounded  confidence  in 
your  wisdom ;  but,  since  my  lot  is  cast  in  this  same  evil  world, 
I  should  be  sorry  to  think  there  was  no  good  in  it." 

"  No  good,  Miss  ! — that  was  what  I  did  not  and  would  not 
say.  There  is  good  in  every  thing  and  every  where,  if  we 
have  but  eyes  to  see  it,  and  hearts  to  confess  it.  There  is 
some  pure  gold  mixed  with  all  this  glitter ;  some  here  that 
seem  to  have  as  pure  hearts  and  quiet  minds  as  if  they  had 
never  stood  in  the  dazzling  sunshine  of  fortune." 

"  You  mean  to  say,  Deborah,"  said  Ellen,  "  that  content- 
ment is  a  modest,  prudent  spirit ;  and  that  for  the  most  part 
she  avoids  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  where  the  sun  burns 
and  the  tempests  beat,  and  leads  her  favorites  along  quiet  vales 
and  tr  sequestered  fountains." 

"  Just  what  I  would  have  said  Ellen,  though  it  may  not  be 
just  as  I  should  have  said  it,"  replied  Deborah,  smiling.  "  You 
young  folks  like  to  dress  every  thing  off  with  garlands,  while 
such  a  plain  old  body  as  I  only  thinks  of  the  substantials. 
But  here  am  I  preaching  while  Emily,  as  busy  as  a  little  bee, 
has  packed  every  thing  and  tied  every  bundle  and  box ;  her 
heart  is  already  half  way  to  Eton.  I  wish  it  was  as  short  a 
journey  to  my  old  limbs  as  it  -is  for  your  young  spirits, 
Emily.  Now  don't  redden  up,  child,  like  the  sky  at  sunset : 
true  love  is  a  creditable  feeling,  and  I  hope  you  know  it 
to  be  so  now  that  we  have  sifted  that  Shaker  chaff  out 
of  your  mind.  Come.  Miss  Campbell  and  Ellen,  we  will 
16* 


370  REDWOOD. 

go  on  to  the  piazza,  and  leave  Emily  to  the  company  <>:   !  .-r 
own  thoughts." 

The  young  ladies  followed  Deborah  to  the  piazza.  Mr. 
Redwood  and  his  daughter,  Fitzgerald  and  Westall.  were  sit- 
ting at  one  extremity  of  it.  Deborah  proposed  joining  them ; 
but  Ellen  begged  they  might  remain  where  they  were.  "  I 
cannot,"  she  said,  "voluntarily  inflict  my  presence  on  Miss 
Redwood.  I  never  approach  her  that  she  does  not  shrink 
from  me." 

"  As  a  condemned  spirit  shrinks  from  the  healthful  air  of 
morning,"  said  Miss  Campbell.  "  She  is  not  worth  heeding, 
Ellen:  it  is  the  folly  of  her  haughtiness,  or  perhaps," — and 
she  looked  at  Ellen  with  an  arch  smile — "  there  has  been  some 
rivalry  in  the  case  ;  she  may  have  detected  too  soon  the  '  fair 
speechless  messages'  that  pass  between  certain  eyes  and  yours. 
Do  not  color,  dear  Ellen ;  Miss  Debby  says  truly,  it  is  a  '  cred- 
itable feeling.'  " 

';  Spare  your  raillery,  Grace ;  this  is  no  subject  for  it- 
There  is  no  rivalry  in  the  case,  I  assure  you.  Whatever  my 
feelings  may  be,  you  perceive  that  all  Miss  Redwood's  are  now 
exclusively  devoted  to  Captain  Fitzgerald ;  and  yet  her  dislike 
towards  me,  or  rather  hatred,  for  I  must  give  it  that  harsh 
name,  has  no  relenting.  I  never  approach  her — I  never 
pass  her,  even  in  her  happiest  moods,  that  her  brow  does  not 
contract,  and  every  feature  becomes  rigid,  with  an  expression 
that  it  "would  seem  impossible  for  so  young  and  beautiful  a  face 
to  wear." 

"  Pshaw.  Ellen  !"  said  Deborah  ;  4{  the  girl  is  whimsical, 
and  her  whims  are  no  more  worth  your  minding  than  the 
freaks  of  a  fretful  child.  Come  along  with  us.  I  must  see 
Mr.  Redwood  once  more,  and  sorry  am  I  it's  the  last  time,  for 
he  suits  my  fancy  better  than  many  a  better  man." 


BED  WOOD.  37  T 

Ellen  seemed  still  reluctant,  when  Charles  Westall  joined 
the  ladies  with  a  request,  as  he  said,  from  Mr.  Redwood, 
that  they  would  consider  his  inability  to  come  to  them, 
and  favor  him  with  their  company.  The  ladies  acquiesced, 
and  Miss  Campbell  took  Deborah's  arm,  on  the  pretext  that 
she  could  not  accommodate  her  quick  step  to  Ellen's  lagging 
pace. 

This  benevolent  manoeuvre  gave  Westall  an  opportunity  to 
satisfy  his  impatient  curiosity  as  to  Ellen's  decision  in  regard 
to  her  departure,  and  when  they  reached  Mr.  Redwood,  the 
speaking  animation  of  his  countenance  evinced  how  much  he 
was  delighted  with  the  result  of  his  inquiry.  Miss  Redwood 
stood  with  her  back  to  the  company,  apparently  entirely  in- 
grossed  in  settling  with  Captain  Fitzgerald  the  comparative 
beauty  of  the  liveries  of  half  a  dozen  servants  who  stood  at 
the  spring  below  them. 

A  faint  gleam  of  pleasure  lit  up  Mr.  Redwood's  pale 
and  desponding  face  as  Ellen  approached  him ;  he  took  her 
hand.  "  Miss  Deborah,"  he  said,  "  is  very  good  to  consent 
to  leave  you."  Caroline  turned  suddenly  round,  and  darted 
a  look  of  eager  inquiry  at  Ellen.  "  And  you,  my  dear  Miss 
Brice,"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice,  "  very  kind  to  grant  my  poor 
request." 

"  Caroline,  Miss  Bruce  remains  a  few  days  longer  at  Leba- 
non ;  I  hope  you  will  do  every  thing  in  your  power  to  prove 
that  her  stay  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to  you."  Caroline 
bowed — she  looked  absolutely  pale.  "  Your  favorite  book,  my 
dear  Ellen,"  continued  Mr.  Redwood,  "  asserts,  I  believe,  that 
it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  ;  if  so,  I  shall  be 
the  cause  of  great  happiness  to  you,  though  not  in  a  mode  most 
lettering  to  my  own  pride." 

Every  word  that  her  father  uttered  increased  Caroline's 


372  REDWOOD. 

agitation ;  it  was  too  apparent  to  escape  observation,  and  for 
once  the  same  thought  flashed  through  Fitzgerald's  and  Miss 
Campbell's  mind — the  same  thought,  but  it  produced  a  very 
different  effect.  '  Good  heavens,'  said  Miss  Campbell,  men- 
tally, '  does  the  foolish  girl  really  fancy  that  her  poor  father, 
who  is  so  fast  going  where  there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving 
in  marriage,  is  projecting  a  love  match  with  Ellen,  or  that  she 
will  marry  a  half  disembodied  spirit !'  'Ah,'  thought  Fitzgerald, 
'  the  girl  is  keen-sighted,  she  foresees  a  match — these  second 
marriages  make  horrible  havoc  with  fortunes.' 

Mr.  Redwood  charged  Deborah  with  many  kind  remem- 
brances to  his  Vermont  friends,  and  she,  really  affected  at  the 
thought  of  parting  from  him  for  ever,  and  always  unobservant 
of  forms,  turned  hastily  away  without  saying  a  word  to  Caro- 
line. Suddenly  recollecting  herself,  she  returned  :  "  Good  by 
to  you,  Miss  Caroline,"  she  said,  "  the  Lord  bless  you,  and 
make  you  a  blessing  and  a  comfort  to  your  father,  which  he 
much  needs ;  and  don't,"  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "  don't  do 
any  thing  to  fret  him,  for  his  life  hangs  as  it  were  by  a 
cambric  thread ;  and  oh,  now  I  think  of  it,"  and  she  checked 
herself  as  she  was  again  turning  away,  "  I  thank  you  heart- 
ily for  remembering  John  Martin's  errand  to  me,  it  was  very 
thoughtful  of  you — and  I  assure  you,  Miss  Caroline,  though 
my  memory  ia  something  broken,  I  never  can  forget  a  kind- 
ness." 

Mr.  Redwood  was  evidently  gratified  with  the  good  nature 
which  led  Deborah  to  magnify  a  trifling  courtesy.  "  My  dear 
Caroline,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  that  you  have  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  obliging  Miss  Deborah — where  did  you  see  John 
Martin  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  not  seen  him  at  all,"  replied  Caroline,  making 
an  effort  to  shelter  her  mortification  by  a  careless  laugh. 


REDWOOD.  373 

"  Only  a  quiz  upon  Miss  Debby,  papa — a  merry  thought  of 
mine,  which  I  know  you  will  forgive,  since  it  has  led  to  an  in- 
definite postponement  of  Miss  Bruce's  departure. Captain 

Fitzgerald,  you  promised  to  show  me  the  setting  sun  from  the 
hill — a  pretty  view  I  am  told — have  you  ever  seen  it,  Miss 
Campbell? — Farewell,  Miss  Deborah." 

Miss  Redwood  walked  away  with  Captain  Fitzgerald  with 
apparent  unconcern.  This  was  not  the  first  time  that  Caroline 
had  shown  in  pressing  emergencies  a  perfect  self-command, 
though  on  slight  occasions  she  was  a  very  child  in  exposing 
every  shade  of  passion. 

"  I  hope  all  you  good  rational  people,"  said  Mr.  Redwood 
with  a  sigh,  "  will  remember  that  my  child  is  but  eighteen  :  and 
now,  may  I  beg  a  few  moments'  private  conversation  with  Miss 
Bruce?" 

"  A  few  moments,  certainly,"  replied  Miss  Campbell : 
"  come,  Mr.  Westall,  I  challenge  you  to  a  turn  on  the  piazza, 
and  we  will  see  which  bears  privation  with  most  magna- 
nimity." 

"  Do  you  believe  the  old  gentleman  is  really  going  to  make 
love  to  Miss  Bruce  ?"  asked  Grace  Campbell,  as  she  turned 
away. 

'  Not  on  his  own  account,  I  fancy,"  replied  Westall. 

"  Ah,  I  comprehend — but  depend  on  it,  a  love  cause  is  bet- 
ter in  the  hands  of  the  principal  than  the  most  eloquent  agent." 

And  so  it  proved ;  for  though  Mr.  Redwood  frankly  avow- 
ed to  Ellen  the  diappointment  of  his  own  hopes,  and  though 
he  urged  her  with  all  the  energy  of  strong  feeling  and  the  most 
affectionate  interest,  to  waive  her  scruples — though  he  begged, 
on  his  own  account,  that  before  he  died  he  might  have  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  the  two  persons  in  whom  he  felt  the  strongest 
interest  united  :  it  was  not  till  Westall,  availing  himself  of  an 


374  REDWOOD. 

opportunity  that  occurred  in  the  evening  to  plead  his  own 
cause  with  the  irresistible  zeal  of  true  and  well-requited 
love,  that  Ellen  gave  her  promise — that  she  would  write  to 
Mrs.  Harrison — lay  the  case  before  her,  and  abide  by  her 
decision. 


REDWOOD.  375 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


"  Thou  I  find 

Hast  the  true  tokens  of  a  noble  mind, 
But  the  world  wins  thee." — CRABBE. 


Miss  CAMPBELL,  and  Ellen  rose  by  appointment  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  at  the  dawn  of  day,  that  they  might  witness  the 
departure  of  Deborah  and  Emily.  As  they  all  stood  on  the 
piazza,  awaiting  the  arrangement  of  the  baggage  in  the  chaise, 
Deborah  drew  Ellen  aside : 

"  Look  here,"  she  said,  undrawing  a  bag,  and  discovering 
one  corner  of  a  packet,  "  here  is  the  identical  money  you  re- 
fused to  receive  from  Mr.  Redwood ;  he  sent  it  to  me  last  night 
for  a  marriage-portion  for  Emily  :  it  is  true,  child — God  bless 
him — it  is. true — he  has  given  it,  and  I  have  taken  it  with  a 
thankful  heart  and  a  prayer  (as  in  duty  bound)  that  the  Lord 
would  return  it  to  him  a  hundred  fold,  in  something  better 
than  silver  and  gold.  I  shall  keep  the  present  a  secret  till 
Emily's  wedding-day,  which  I'm  sure,  is  not  far  off;  and  Ellen," 
she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  I'm  thinking  that  another 
wedding-day  is  coming  among  our  friends.  Now,  what  do  you 
look  down  for  ?  If  there  is  any  body  in  the  land  might  hold 
up  their  heads  with  a  good  grace,  it's  you ;  for,  to  my  notion, 
there  is  not  a  nobler  man  in  the  'varsal  world,  view  him  in 
what  light  you  will,  than  this  same  Charles  Westall." 


376  REDWOOD. 

-  But,  Deborah,"  interrupted  Ellen.  "  I  am  not  engaged" — 

"  Engaged — I  know  that" 

"  Ma'am,  your  chaise  is  ready,"  said  the  servant. 

"  Coming  in  a  minute.  I  know  how  it  stands,  Ellen,  pretty 
nearly ;  for  last  night,  when  I  got  this  packet  from  Mr.  Red- 
wood, my  heart  was  so  full  I  thought  I  could  not  sleep  till  I 
had  told  you.  I  looked  in  your  room — you  was  not  there  ;  I 
came  on  to  the  piazza — you  and  Mr.  Charles  Westall  were 
standing  by  the  door  yonder  ;  while  I  was  hesitating  whether 
to  go  back  without  interrupting  you,  I  heard  a  few  words,  just 
enough  to  give  me  a  little  insight  into  the  business.  I  thought 
it  fair  to  tell  you  ;  and  besides,  I  wanted  to  charge  you  not  to 
be  notional ;  for  a  girl  of  your  sense,  Ellen,  you  are  apt  to  be  a 
little  notional,  which  is  not  your  fault,  but  comes  of  your  living 
with  Mrs.  Harrison,  and  reading  too  many  verses,  which  are 
apt  to  make  girls  dreamy/' 

"  Miss  Debby,"  cried  Emily,  "  every  thing  is  ready,  and  the 
sun  is  rising." 

"  Coming  child,  coming.  One  word  more,  Ellen — "  and 
here  Deborah  paused,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  at  a  loss  how 
to  express  herself.  She  drummed  with  the  butt  end  of  her 
whip  on  the  railing,  made  figures  with  the  lash  on  the  floor, 
knit  her  brow,  bit  her  lips,  but  did  not  speak  till  spurred  by  a 
second  call  from  Emily ;  and  then  the  tears  gushed  from  the 
good  creature's  eyet  as  she  said,  "  Ellen,  you  are  rich  in  no- 
thing but  the  grace  of  God  ;  the  best  riches  I  know  :  but  then 
there's  neither  quails  nor  manna  now-a-days,  and  one  must  look 
a  little  to  the  needful.  When  my  father  died,  (a  thrifty,  pru 
dent  man.)  he  left  me  fifty  pounds  lawful.  It  has  been  in  good 
hands,  and  has  run  up  to  between  two  and  three  hundred.  I 
have  enough  for  myself  besides,  Ellen,  laid  up  for  a  wet  day, 
so  that  is  all  to  be  yours.  Now  don't  speak,  but  hearken  to 


REDWOOD.  377 

me — besides  the  money,  I  have  a  nice  store  of  table  linen  for 
you,  and  some  coverlets,  and  feather  beds." 

«  Oh,  Deborah,  Deborah  !"— 

"  Say  nothing,  child — I  can't  bear  it.  I  won't  be  gain- 
sayed.  Good  by.  Ellen,  the  Lord  bless  you,  child,  and  all 
that  care  for  you," — and  she  strided  across  the  piazza  without 
giving  Ellen  time  to  open  her  lips  ;  shook  Miss  Campbell's 
hand  heartily  as  she  passed,  took  her  seat  in  the  chaise,  and 
the  moment  Emily  had  taken  a  hurried  leave  of  Ellen,  she 
drove  off,  followed  by  the  blessings  and  prayers  of  her  grateful 
young  friend. 

The  two  ladies  stood  silently  gazing  after  the  old  chaise 
as  it  slowly  descended  the  hill.  After  a  few  moments,  Miss 
Campbell  turned  suddenly  round,  and  observing  that  the  tears 
were  streaming  from  Ellen's  eyes,  "  Who  would  think,"  she 
said,  "  that  Miss  Deborah  would  call  forth  such  a  sentimental 
tribute  ;  and  yet  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  cry  heartily 
too,  for  sure  I  am,  I  never  shall  look  upon  her  like  again." 

"  She  deserves  every  tribute,"  replied  Ellen,  "  that  can  be 
paid  to  genuine  worth.  Under  her  rough  exterior  she  bears 
a  heart  that  angels  might  joy  to  look  into — full  of  all  honest 
thoughts  and  kindly  affections." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you ;  and  now,  dear  Ellen,  though  more 
than  half  an  angel  yourself,  I  am  going  to  expose  a  heart  to 
you  that  has  no  such  high  qualifications  ;  so  get  your  hat  and 
shawl,  and  we  will  stroll  into  some  of  these  woods,  far  out  of 
the  sight  and  hearing  of  the  '  world's  people.'  " 

The  two  ladies  ascended  the  hill  above  the  spring,  and 
leaving  the  highway,  took  a  footpath  that  indents  a  beautiful 
grove.  They  soon  reached  a  place  of  perfect  seclusion,  and 
seating  themselves  on  a  rock,  they  remained  for  some  time 
silent ;  Ellen  awaiting  Miss  Campbell's  communication,  and 


378  REDWOOD. 

she  with  some  embarrassment  picking  the  leaves  from  a  branch 
she  had  plucked  in  her  way,  and ,  strewing  them  about  her  :  at 
last,  throwing  away  leaves,  branch  and  all,  she  said,  "  I  hardly 
know,  Ellen,  whether  to  be  most  ashamed  or  proud  of  myself, 
on  account  of  the  confidence  I  am  about  to  repose  in  you.  It 
seems  so  like  the  girlish  prating  of  a  Miss  in  her  teens  ;  after 
our  brief  acquaintance  to  unveil  to  you  the  state  of  my  heart, 
when  even  I  myself  have  not  yet  dared  to  take  one  calm  sur- 
vey of  it.  But  there  is  a  charm  about  you.  Ellen — an  '  open 
sessame '  that  unlocks  all  hearts — you  have  touched  the  mas- 
ter-spring of  mine,  and  it  must  be  shown  to  you  as  it  is,  with 
all  its  light  and  all  its  darkness  :  believe  me,  you  will  find  it 
1  o'er  good  for  banning,  and  o'er  bad  for  blessing.'  " 

"  Well,  dear  Miss  Campbell,  do  dispense  with  any  more 
preparation  ;  I  have  already  felt  such  sweet  and  kindly  influ- 
ence from  this  unknown  country,  that  I  long  to  explore  it." 

"  Will  you  pay  my  frankness  in  kind,  Ellen  ?  Never  mind 
— do  not  blush  ;  I  see  you  belong  to  the  sentimental  class,  who 
never  tell  their  love,  and  I  will  be  generous  and  tell  you  all ; 
and,  perhaps,  you  will  be  just  and  tell  me — all  that  I  have  not 
already  guessed. 

"  To  begin  then  with  the  beginning.  I  might  almost  use 
the  concise  style  of  a  certain  ludicrous  person,  and  say,  '  I  was 
born,  and  up  I  grew' — but  that  there  were  circumstances  that 
occurred  in  our  family,  in  my  youth,  which  affected  my  charac- 
ter and  relations  in  life.  My  father  was  a  lawyer,  a  man  of 
talents,  and  rising  rapidly  in  his  profession,  when  he  was  car- 
ried off  by  the  yellow  fever,  then  raging  in  our  city.  I  was 
but  a  month  old  when  he  died.  My  mother  took  refuge  among 
the  Moravians  in  Bethlem.  The  sudden  death  of  my  father 
blasted  her  happiness  and  hopes  ;  and  the  fatigue  of  removal, 
so  soon  after  her  confinement,  threw  her  into  a  decline ;  she 


REDWOOD.  379 

languished  two  years,  and  then  followed  my  father.  The  Mo- 
ravian sisters  had  attended  to  all  her  wants  with  exemplary 
devotion.  My  helpless  infancy  had  interested  their  kind 
hearts  ;  I  was  exclusively  attached  to  them,  and  as  my  aunt 
Armstead  was  then  engrossed  with  a  plentifully  stocked  nur- 
sery, and  I  had  no  other  near  female  relative,  my  friends  were 
easily  persuaded  to  permit  me  to  remain  under  the  care  of  one 
of  the  sisters  of  Bethlem, 

"  When  I  was  ten  years  old,  my  uncle  Richard  Campbell, 
who  was  my  guardian,  came  to  see  me  ;  he  was  then,  and  still 
is,  a  bachelor  ;  he  is  a  merchant,  and  has  amassed  a  large  for- 
tune, all,  as  I  am  told,  in  a  very  regular  way  of  trade,  and  by 
the  faithful  application  of  every  maxim  in  poor  Richard's  alma- 
nac. He  was  my  father's  eldest  brother  ;  had  courted  in  his 
youth  a  very  charming  young  girl,  who  preferred  and  married 
his  younger  brother,  a  poor,  helpless  genius.  This  disappoint- 
ment inclined  my  uncle  Richard  to  distrust  our  whole  sex,  one 
of  them  having  made  such  an  erroneous  calculation  as  to  the 
main  chance,  and  he  is  said  never  to  have  jeoparded  his  fortune 
by  offering  to  participate  it  with  any  other  lady.  His  }rounger 
brother,  and  successful  rival,  abandoned  his  country  and  went 
to  England,  in  the  hope  of  carrying  his  literary  talents  to  a 
better  market  than  he  could  find  for  them  at  home.  There  he 
had  small  successes  and  great  discouragements ;  and,  after 
struggling  a  few  years,  he  died,  and  left  his  wife  unprovided 
with  every  thing  but  three  or  four  children,  rather  an  unpro- 
ductive property  you  know.  She  preferred  remaining  in  Eng- 
land to  returning,  to  be  either  a  dependent  on  her  friends,  or 
a  reproach  to  them  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  occasional  remittances 
from  my  good  aunt  Armstead,  and  some  little  remnant  of  her 
father's  estate,  and  with  faculties  of  industry  and  economy  in 
her  situation  deserving  of  all  praise,  she  contrived  to  subsist 


380  REDWOOD. 

• 

and  educate  her  family  respectably.  Her  eldest  son  is  said  to 
be  a  genius,  a  painter  by  profession,  and  a  man  of  sense  ;  but 
of  him  more  anon. 

"  My  uncle  Richard  preserved  towards  the  poor  widow  of 
his  brother  the  resentment  of  a  mean  mind  ;  and  there  is,  as 
far  as  I  know,  no  reason  to  believe  that  in  all  her  embarrass- 
ments he  ever  extended  to  her  the  slightest  aid.  As  I  told 
you,  when  my  uncle  first  saw  me  I  was  ten  years  old,  a  little 
prim  miniature  old  maid,  dressed  in  the  formal  fashion  of  the 
Moravians,  as  staid  in  my  deportment,  and  as  precise  in  all  my 
movements,  as  the  good  ancient  maiden  who  had  formed  me 
after  her  own  model.  In  short,  I  was  my  uncle's  beau  ideal. 
He  was  just  then  meditating  a  selection  of  some  one  of  his 
young  relations  to  inherit  his  property — of  some  one  who,  by 
the  hardest  slavery,  the  slavery  of  the  mind,  the  complete  sub- 
jection of  the  will,  might  deserve  the  rich  inheritance  he  has 
to  bestow.  Most  unfortunately  for  him  and  for  me,  his  choice 
fell  upon  myself:  unfortunate  for  both,  for  if  there  ever  ex- 
isted two  beings  who  had  not  one  principle  of  affinity,  they  are 
my  uncle  and  myself.  He  is  a  conceited  bigot  in  every  thing, 
from  his  religion  down  to  his  particular  mode  of  tying  on  his 
neckcloth  ;  he  is  ignorant  of  every  thing  but  ho\»  to  get  and 
how  to  keep  money  :  in  short,  dear  Ellen,  for  his  character  is 
not  worth  the  drawing,  the  breath  of  intellectual  and  moral 
life  has  never  been  breathed  into  him." 

"  And  is  this  the  uncle,  Miss  Campbell,  whose  fortune  you 
are  to  inherit  ?"  inquired  Ellen. 

t:  The  same,  my  dear — and  do  not  suspect  me  of  ingrati- 
tude. I  have  faults  enough,  Heaven  knows,  but  ingratitude  is 
not  one  of  them — a  good  word,  a  kind  look,  were  never  thrown 
away  upon  me  ;  but  I  owe  my  uncle  nothing.  He  selected  an 
heir  because  he  chose  to  control  his  property  as  long  as  possi- 


REDWOOD.  381 

ble  ;  and  he  selected  me  because  he  fancied  that  I  should  prove 
an  obedient  machine,  a  meek  subject  to  his  will." 

"  You  must  have  convinced  him  of  his  mistake  long  before 
this,"  said  Ellen  ;  "  how  have  you  retained  his  favor  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  completely  enlightened,  my  dear ;  but  luckily 
for  my  worldly  prospects,  he  prides  himself  on  never  changing 
his  purpose.  But  I  have  gone  beyond  my  story.  He  took  me 
home  with  him,  placed  me  at  a  public  school,  where  I  had  com- 
panions of  my  own  age,  and  I  soon  lost  the  quiet  deportment 
that  had  been  the  effect  of  the  law  of  imitation,  and  all  the 
orderly  virtues  that  had  been  produced  by  careful  pruning  and 
training.  I  was  like  a  plant  transferred  from  the  cellar  to 
the  genial  influences  of  air,  sunshine,  and  showers.  My  uncle 
had  scarcely  announced  his  decision  to  the"  world,  and  pro- 
nounced his  infallible  opinion  of  my  merits,  before  I  was  trans- 
formed into  a  gay,  laughing,  romping,  reckless  child.  Figure 
to  yourself,  my  dear  Ellen,  such  a  child  with  all  the  uproar  and 
misrule  that  follows  in  her  train,  introduced  into  the  house  of 
a  sober  citizen,  a  priggish  old  bachelor,  with  as  much  pharisai- 
cal  exactness  in  the  arrangement  of  his  household  and  furni- 
ture, as  if  his  salvation  depended  on  preserving  the  mutual 
relation  of  chairs  and  tables. 

"  His  servants  were  always  in  my  interest,  for  I  was  gen- 
erous to  them  to  the  extent  of  my  ability,  and  they  contrived 
so  to  shelter  and  excuse  my  faults,  that  my  uncle  endured  my 
residence  with  him  for  two  years  ;  then  on  one  unlucky,  or 
rather  lucky  day,  since  I  may  date  from  it  my  escape  from 
thraldom,  as  I  was  returning  from  school  with  a  troop  of  my 
young  friends,  I  met  old  Dickey,  a  blind  fiddler,  who  used  to 
patrol  the  streets,  led  by  his  dog,  who  was  the  familiar  friend 
of  every  child  in  the  city.  We  were  near  my  uncle's  door ;  I 
was  in  the  humor  for  a  frolic,  and  thoughtless  of  the  conse- 


382  REDWOOD. 

quences,  I  invited  Dickey  in,  pressed  my  companions  to  follow 
— we  ejected  the  chairs  and  tables  from  the  parlor,  and  in  five 
minutes  were  dancing  as  merrily  as  ever  fairies  tripped  it 
over  a  green.  In  the  height  of  our  mirth,  my  uncle  entered 
to  witness  the  horrible  sacrilege  to  which  his  immaculate  parlor 
was  devoted.  Children,  Dickey,  dog,  and  all,  were  instantly 
sent  packing.  I  followed  in  their  train,  full  of  resentment  at 
the  indignity  that  had  been  offered  to  me  by  such  treatment  of 
my  guests,  and  heroically  resolved  never  to  enter  my  uncle's 
house  again.  I  went  to  my  aunt  Armstead's  and  poured  my 
wrongs  into  her  kind  bosom.  She,  no  doubt,  saw  that  my  folly 
surpassed  my  uncle's  severity,  but  she  is  the  most  indulgent 
being  in  the  world — she  had  an  excessive  partiality  for  me,  and 
without  reprimanding  me  very  severely,  she  took  the  prudent 
resolution  to  go  to  my  uncle,  and  represent  to  him  the  absolute 
necessity  for  his  own  comfort,  as  well  as  my  prosperity,  of 
placing  me  under  female  surveillance.  She  proposed  taking 
charge  of  me  herself,  and  in  pleading  my  cause  she  paid  such 
deference  to  my  uncle's  will  and  whims,  that  she  obtained  her 
point  without  much  difficulty — indeed,  I  believe,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  the  quiet  angels  in  heaven  were  not  more  rejoiced 
to  be  rid  of  the  rebel  spirit  and  his  misguided  followers,  than 
my  uncle  was  to  be  relieved  from  me  and  the  little  mob  that 
was  for  ever  at  my  heels. 

"In  my  aunt's  family  I  have  lived  in  indulgence  so 
unbounded,  that  it  would  have  been  ruinous  to  me.  but  for  the 
salutary  influence  of  those  domestic  affections,  which  next  to 
the  control  and  regulation  of  principle,  are  certainly  the  best 
security  for  virtue.  I  could  sketch  my  own  character,  my  dear 
Ellen,  but  I  am  afraid  I  should  not  much  like  to  look  at  the 
picture.  I  have  had  what  the  French  call  grand  succes  in  the 
world,  and  yet  I  am  more  than  half  wearied  with  it — at  least 


REDWOOD.  383 

when  I  am  beyond  the  siren  sounds  of  pleasure — pleasure  in 
the  childish,  gay  world's  sense,  I  can  feel  an  anchorite's  con- 
tempt for  it.  I  have  been  at  the  very  head  of  society  in  Phil- 
adelphia— I  may  say  it  to  you,  because  it  is  evidently  no  merit 
in  your  eyes ;  you  care  for  none  of  these  things.  I  had  rivals 
who  excelled  me  in  every  particular  attraction  of  a  fine  lady — 
many  that  were  far  richer  than  I  expect  to  be,  some  that  were 
far  handsomer  than  my  glass,  my  vanity,  or  even  my  flatterers 
told  me  that  I  was — some  that  I  felt  to  be  far  wittier,  and 
some  that  I  knew  to  be  much  more  accomplished — but  I  united 
more  than  any  one  of  them  all.  I  had  not  beauty  enough  to 
be  that  most  insipid  of  all  creatures,  a  mere  belle — nor  litera- 
ture enough  to  fall  into  that  unhappy  class,  the  blue  stockings, 
the  terror  of  our  city  beaux,  the  dread  of  our  fashionables — 
nor  sufficiently  brilliant  expectations  to  throw  me  into  the 
vulgar  class  of  the  fortunes  ;  but  I  had  enough  of  each  to 
attract  the  votaries  of  every  class — I  have  been  surrounded  by 
admirers,  and  yet  I  have  walked  among  them  with  an  unscath- 
ed heart  till  within  these  few  weeks  ;  and  now,  my  dear  Ellen, 
be  kind  enough  to  look  the  other  way,  for  though  I  have  not 
all  your  sentimental  reserve,  I  have  a  little  maidenly  pride  of 
my  own,  which  I  would  rather  not  discourage. 

"  You  noticed  the  gentleman  who  was  with  me  when  I 
first  had  the  happiness  to  see  you — he  is  an  acquaintance 
of  a  few  weeks  standing,  and  yet,  shall  I  confess  all  to  you  ? 
— he  has  made  himself  perfectly  indispensable  to  my  happi- 
ness." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Ellen. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  and  I  suspect  there  are  some  who  live  and 
act  more  by  rule  than  I  do,  who  find  that  such  things  are.  I 
despise  and  distrust  as  much  as  you  can,  the  idea  of  love 
at  first  sight,  and  all  the  folly  connected  with  it ;  but  my 


384  REDWOOD. 

late  experience  has  made  me  a  little  superstitious  in  regard 
to  the  old  orthodox  doctrine  that  '  matches  are  made  in 
heaven.'  " 

"  But  why  so  ?  If  the  account  your  cousin  has  given  of 
Mr.  Howard  is  a  just  one.  (and  your  cousin  seems  not  to  be  an 
enthusiast.)  there  is  nothing  supernatural  in  his  winning  your 
affections,  and  certainly  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  his 
reciprocating  them — reciprocal  I  am  sure  the  attachment  must 
be." 

"  Certainly,  or  you  would  never  have  heard  mine  aforesaid 
confession.  Howard  and  I  understand  each  other,  but  there 
are  obstacles  in  my  way  that  he  does  not  understand. 

"  I  have  long  been  interested  in  the  character  and  destiny 
of  my  cousin  Fenton  Campbell,  the  eldest  son  of  the  aunt  of 
whom  I  spoke  to  you,  who  resides  in  England.  From  the 
accounts  we  have  received  of  him,  he  inherits  his  father's  genius 
with  the  good  sense  of  his  mother.  He  has  already  attained 
some  distinction  in  his  profession,  and  has  long  been  the  sup- 
port of  his  mother  and  sisters.  My  aunt  Armstead  and  I 
have  takon  especial  pains  that  every  account  of  his  thriftiness 
should  be  poured  into  my  uncle  Richard's  ear :  and  two  years 
ago,  when  I  had  mortally  offended  my  uncle,  by  doing  some- 
thing he  had  forbidden,  or  not  doing  something  he  had  com- 
manded, I  forget  which,  I  entreated  my  aunt  to  seize  the 
favorable  moment  to  urge  Fenton's  equal  claims  to  mine,  and 
his  superior  merits,  and  to  induce  my  uncle  to  make  a  will 
which  should  divide  his  fortune  equally  between  us." 

"  That  was  indeed  generous.  Miss  Campbell." 

"  No,  my  dear,  not  particularly  generous.  I  was  moved  to 
it  more  by  my  impatience  under  my  obligations  to  my  uncle, 
than  by  any  more  disinterested  motive.'' 

Ellen's  animated  countenance  evinced  that  she  admired  the 


REDWOOD.  385 

magnanimity  that  spurned  a  self-delusion,  and  Miss  Campbell 
proceeded — 

"  My  uncle  was  persuaded  :  he  announced  his  resolution  to 
me,  which,  as  you  may  imagine,  I  received  with  very  provoking 
nonchalance  ;  and  he  wrote  to  Fenton,  and  promised  him,  that 
provided  he  would  come  immediately  to  this  country  and  fix 
his  residence  here,  he  should  inherit  the  half  of  his  estate. 
Fenton  returned  a  very  calm  expression  of  his  gratitude,  but 
said  it  was  entirely  out  of  his  power  to  perform  the  required 
conditions,  as  his  mother  was  in  a  declining  state  of  health, 
too  feeble  either  to  endure  a  voyage,  or  to  be  left  by  her  son. 
He  particularly  requested  that  his  mother  might  not  be  in- 
formed of  his  uncle's  generous  intentions  in  regard  to  him,  as 
nothing  would  distress  her  so  much  as  to  be  in  any  mode  an 
obstacle  to  the  prosperity  of  her  family.  This  letter  of  Fen- 
ton's  of  course  deepened  my  favorable  impressions  of  him.  but 
it  had  quite  a  contrary  effect  upon  my  uncle,  who  thought  that 
no  folly  could  surpass  the  giving  the  go-by  to  such  a  chance  of 
fortune.  Poor  slave  of  mammon  !  he  could  not  forgive  Fen- 

V 

ton  for  not  forsaking  all  other  duties,  to  bow  down  and  worship 
the  golden  image  he  had  set  up.  My  aunt  Armstead  wrote  to 
him  repeatedly  and  urgently  to  come  over  for  a  few  months  to 
conciliate  my  uncle,  and  confirm  his  wavering  mind  but  no 
motive  could  persuade  him  to  leave  his  mother.  My  uncle 
suspended  his  arrangements :  his  displeasure  against  Fenton 
prevented  a  decision  in  his  favor,  while  the  frequent  accounts 
he  received  of  the  young  man's  diligent  application  to  his  pro- 
fession kept  alive  his  wish  to  deposit  a  part  of  his  fortune  in 
his  prudent  hands. 

"Thus   matters   remained    till   about   six    months   since, 
when  we  received  the  intelligence  of   my    aunt    Campbell's 
death.     My  uncle  Richard  renewed  his  proposition  to  Fen- 
17 


386  REDWOOD. 

ton ;  he  accepted  it,  and  three  months  ago  arrived  in  Phila- 
delphia. 

"  I  have  not  yet  seen  him.  My  aunt  Armstead  removed  to 
her  country  place  in  Jersey  the  week  before  his  arrival. 
Cousin  William  tells  me  that  the  old  gentleman  has  taken  'sur- 
prisingly to  Fenton,  attracted  by  the  gravity  of  his  manners, 
which  William  imputes  to  his  laborious  sedentary  life,  and  to 
his  grief  for  the  recent  loss  of  his  mother,  whom  he  most  ten- 
derly loved.  So  far  all  is  well — but  now,  dear  Ellen,  come  the 
cross-purposes.  My  uncle  has  taken  it  into  his  wise  head  to 
institute  a  partnership  concern  between  Fenton  and  myself; 
and  on  the  very  day  of  Fenton's  arrival  in  this  country,  he  an 
nounced  by  letter  his  supreme  will  to  me  in  much  the  same 
terms  he  would  employ  to  convey  his  orders  to  a  supercargo. 
Three  months  ago  this  would  have  been  well  enough ;  for  I 
have  had  a  sort  of  indefinite  purpose  to  keep  myself  fancy 
free  till  I  could  see  this  cousin  of  mine — nothing  else,  I  be- 
lieve, has  kept  me  single  so  long." 

"  So  long !"  exclaimed  Ellen,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  '  so  long ;'  for  you  must  know  I  am  on  the 
verge  of  three-and-twenty,  an  age  un  peu  passe  in  the  world  of 
fashion,  and  quite  unknown  in  the  lives  of  heroines,  for  ex- 
cepting lady  Geraldine,  the  most  spirited  of  Miss  Edgeworth's 
characters,  and  whom  (heaven  bless  her  for  it !)  she  has  made, 
I  think,  to  arrive  at  the  mature  age  of  two  and  twenty,  I  do 
not  remember  in  all  romance,  a  single  heroine  that  had  attain- 
ed her  majority." 

"  But  you  surely  do  not  seriously  .mean,  my  dear  Miss 
Campbell,  that  any  such  motive  would  influence  your  mar- 
riage ?" 

"  My  sweet  little  methodistic  Ellen,  I  am  very  much  afraid 
it  would ;  depend  upon  it.  one  cannot  live  altogether  in  the 


REDWOOD.  387 

world  and  not  be  of  the  world :  but  let  me  go  on  with  my 
story,  and  you  will  find  that  I  am  in  danger  of  a  romantic 
folly  that  would  be  more  appropriate  to  your  innocence  and 
sweet  simplicity. 

"  My  cousin,  instead  of  coming  immediately  to  my  aunt's, 
remained  in  the  city.  I  was  a  little  piqued  at  his  delay,  for  I 
thought  it  would  have  been  much  more  in  keeping  with  his 
character,  to  look  after,  us  than  to  remain  hanging  about  my 
uncle.  In  the  meantime,  as  Heaven  decreed,  William  Arm- 
stead  brought  home  with  him  his  friend  Howard ;  he  was  a 
Bostonian ;  that  prejudiced  me  in  his  favor,  for  I  like  the 
eastern  people  particularly :  they  have  not,  perhaps,  the  air  of 
fashion,  the  flexible  graces  that  flourish  at  the  south,  but  they 
have  great  intelligence,  high  cultivation,  and  above  all,  a  manly 
dignity  of  manners,  a  simplicity  and  naturalness,  an  elevated 
tone  of  moral  feeling,  a" 

"  Do  you  speak  of  a  class  or  an  individual  ?"  asked  Ellen, 
archly. 

"  Both,  Ellen,  both — a  noble  class,  and  a  most  worthy  rep- 
resentative of  that  class.  But  to  proceed.  We  were  in  the 
country.  Howard  might  not  have  fancied  me  elsewhere ;  but 
there  all  that  is  good  and  ethereal  in  my  nature  rises  superior 
to  every  artificial  influence,  '  the  malt's  aboon  the  meal' — 
moonlight — rural  walks,  and  all  the  appliances  and  means  of 
love  came  in  aid  of  our  mutual  liking ;  and,  before  we  parted, 
we  were  fast  approaching  the  last  interesting  scene  in  the  love 
drama — the  exchange  of  mutual  vows.  At  this  critical  mo- 
ment Howard  received  letters  that  obliged  him  to  leave  us  for 
a  few  days  ;  he  is  to  be  here  to-morrow,  and  it  was  partly  from 
the  wish  to  have  such  a  friend  as  you  near  me  at  this  important 
juncture,  that  I  so  earnestly  entreated  you  to  remain  at  Leb- 
anon. There  is  a  pitfall  before  me  :  I  am  certain  that  if  I  fill 


388  REDWOOD. 

up  the  measure  of  my  iniquities  by  refusing  obedience  to  my 
uncle  in  the  matter  of  his  nephew,  I  shall  incur  his  everlast- 
ing displeasure  and  the  penalty  of  disinheritance." 

'•  That/'  said  Ellen,  "  can  be  of  little  consequence,  since  you 
do  not  incur  the  penalty  by  any  violation  of  duty  " 

"  Of  little  consequence  !  Would  to  heaven,  Ellen,  I  were  as 
unsophisticated  as  you  are  ;  or  that  I  had  never  been  '  clasped 
with  favor  in  fortune's  tender  arms.' "  An  unwonted  seriousness 
overspread  Miss  Campbell's  face  as  she  added,  "  I  certainly  am 
not  selfish.  I  disdain  the  vulgar  distinction  of  wealth  ;  but  who 
can  escape  or  evade  the  force  of  habit,  accustomed  as  I  have 
been  to  the  ease  and  indulgence  of  fortune,  to  the  power  it  con- 
fers, and  the  deference  that  attends  it  ?  How  shall  I  encounter 
toil  and  submit  to  privations  ?  How  shall  I  bear  the  neglect 
of  those  who  have  courted  my  favor,  who  have  felt  honored  by 
my  slightest  attention?" 

"By  rising  to  an  elevation  they  can  never  reach.  Miss 
Campbell."  said  Ellen,  affectionately  taking  her  hand.  "If 
you  love  Howard,  if  he  deserves  your  love,  he  is  worth  this 
sacrifice." 

"  Upon  my  word,  young  ladies,  talking  of  love  and  lovers 
before  breakfast,"  spoke  a  voice  behind  them,  which  made  both 
the  ladies  start,  and  turning  round  they  perceived  William 
Armstead  approaching  them  with  a  letter  in  his  hand.  "  I 
have  been  looking  for  you,  cousin  Grace,"  he  said,  "  this  half 
hour,  and  have  at  length  traced  you  to  this  place :  who  would 
have  expected  to  find  you  sentimentalizing  in  a  shady  grove 
— and  before  breakfast  too  You  are  leading  Grace  quite  out 
of  her  element.  Miss  Bruce.  Grace.  I  have  a  letter  here  for 
yon  from  our  worthy  uncle,  which,  if  I  mistake  not.  will  eon- 
tain  matter  of  fact  that  will  dispel  all  your  morning  fancies; 
and  I  have  a  piece  of  news  for  you  too." 


REDWOOD.  389 

"  Has  Howard  arrived  ?"  exclaimed  Miss  Campbell. 

"  You  need  not  blush,  Grace,  because  your  tongue  is  obedi- 
ent to  your  heart.  No — Howard  has  not  arrived,  but  Fenton 
has." 

'•  Fenton,"  replied  Miss  Campbell  in  a  disappointed  tone, 
and  the  color  retreated  from  her  cheeks  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
appeared.  "  Oh,  "William,  I  could  almost  wish  you  the  fate  of 
Ascalaphus  for  bringing  me  such  news." 

Miss  Campbell  broke  the  seal  of  her  uncle's  letter,  and  ran 
her  eye  hastily  over  it ;  and  as  she  read  half  to  herself  and 
half  aloud,  her  companions  caught  these,  broken  sentences — 
'  take  it  very  ill  I  get  no  advices  from  you' — '  Fenton  more 
punctual,  but  says  nothing  as  to  the  business  in  hand' — '  two 
for  the  divisor,  don't  like  that' — '  will  have  neither  subtraction 
nor  division  to  my  capital'^'  obey  orders,  marry  Fenton,  you 
shall  have  the  sum  total' — '  disobey,  and  you  are  a  cipher  the 
wrong  side  of  the  figure.' 

Miss  Campbell's  indignation  mantled  into  her  face  and 
sparkled  in  her  eyes,  and  she  tore  the  letter  to  fragments  and 
scattered  it  to  the  winds — c'  Mean,  sordid  being  !"  she  exclaim- 
ed ;  "  and  he  thinks  I  will  traffic  with  my  affections  as  he  does 
with  his  merchandise  !  No,  let  his  silver  and  gold  perish — I 
will  marry  whom  I  please,  and  when  I  please !" 

Ellen,  with  the  impulsive  sympathy  of  generous  feeling, 
pressed  the  arm  into  which  hers  was  locked ;  and  Armstead 
said,  "  Spoken  worthy  of  yourself,  my  dear  Grace  ;  but  consider 
well  and  warily  before  you  take  a  step  which  cannot  be  retract- 
ed. You  'are  a  woman  of  sense,  and  you  know  it  is  one  thing 
to  wish  to  attain  a  difficult  summit,  and  quite  another  to  reach 
it.  You  are  a  woman  of  prudence — a  woman  of  the  world,  and 
you  know  that  the  visions  of  youthful  love  bear  a  very  faint 
resemblance  to  the  realities  of  life.  You  know,  dear  Grace. 


390  REDWOOD. 

that  it  would  be  at  least  as  difficult  for  a  fashionable  woman 
like  you  to  play  love  in  a  cottage,  as  for  a  camel  to  go  through 
the  eye  of  a  needle — consider  well,  cousin,  consider  well,  before 
you  take  an  unchangeable  resolution." 

"  I  have  considered,  William — have  I  not,  Ellen  ?" 

Ellen  smiled  without  replying,  for  she  feared  that  her 
friend's  hasty  resolution  had  been  somewhat  quickened  by  re- 
sentment against  her  uncle :  luckily  the  warmth  of  Grace 
Campbelrs  feelings  at  the  moment  prevented  her  noticing  the 
half-incredulous  expression  of  Ellen's  face. 

"  I  have  considered,  William,"  she  repeated,  "  and  if  your 
friend  will  take  my  unportioned  hand.  Fenton  shall  be  welcome 
to  all  my  uncle's  paltry  wealth — he  shall  see  that  I  despise  it, 
and  the  world  shall  know  that  I  disdain  its  splendor." 

"  And  you,  my  dear  Miss  Campbell,"  said  Ellen  with  enthu- 
siasm, "  will  have  the  secret  consciousness  of  having  acted  right 
and  nobly." 

''•  Ah,  thank  you,  Ellen,  for  your  prompting.  I  am  apt  I 
believe  to  forget  secret  feelings.  I  have  been  a  gallery  picture, 
you  a  sweet  little  cabinet  article  :  but  times  are  changing  with 
me,  and  you  will  teach  me  better." 

"  I  am  thinking.  Grace,"  said  Armstead.  how  Howard  will 
relish  these  changing  times,  it  would  be  a  disappointment  to 
find  him  not  as  magnanimous  and  disinterested  as  yourself." 

"  Howard  not  disinterested  !  your  friendship  grows  cold, 
William." 

"  Not  at  all — we  may  as  well  look  truth  ip  the  face,  cousin, 
though  it  should  come  to  us  through  the  medium  of  friend  or 
lover — love  matches  among  people  who  have  lived  in  a  certain 
style,  you  know,  are  getting  to  be  quite  obsolete — we  are  begin- 
ning to  regard  them  as  only  becoming  boys  and  girls — only 
suited  to  the  infancy  of  society." 


REDWOOD.  391 

"I  know  not  whether  you  are  sarcastic  or  serious,  Wil- 
liam." 

Perfectly  serious,"  rejoined  "William,  "and  as  serious  in 
my  opinion  that  Fenton  dampbell  is  to  the  full  as  disinterested 
as  Howard." 

"  Impossible  !  we  have  all  been  mistaken  in  Fenton :  he  is 
a  cold,  calculating  Englishman — his  servility  to  my  uncle 
proves  it.  It  was  unworthy  any  man  of  spirit  to  be  the  bearer 
of  this  letter  to  me." 

"  Come,  Miss  Bruce,"  said  Armstead  to  Ellen,  "  hasten 
your  friend's  pace,  she  will  work  herself  into  such  a  holy  indig- 
nation against  poor  Fenton  before  we  reach  home,  that  she  will 
not  be  able  to  receive  him  with  common  civility.  Come,  my  dear 
Grace,  forget  your  displeasure — look  again  like  yourself,  if  it  is 
only  to  let  Fenton  see  the  gem  sparkle  which  he  has  forfeited." 

In  vain  Armstead  continued  his  efforts  as  they  approached 
the  house,  to  dispel  his  cousin's  gravity :  he  reasoned,  he  ral- 
lied, but  all  in  vain — the  fear  he  had  insinuated  into  her  mind 
in  relation  to  Howard,  had  taken  complete  possession  of  her : 
she  blamed  herself  for  the  frankness  of  her  communications ; 
and  for  a  few  moments  at  least,  she  would  have  rejoiced  to 
have  been  even  as  destitute  as  Ellen  of  extrinsic  attractions. 

Consc  ous  that  the  agitation  of  her  mind  unfitted  her  for 
meeting  her  cousin  with  the  indifference  and  calm  civility 
which  her  pride  prompted  her  to  assume  towards  him,  she 
approached  the  door  of  the  parlor,  where  Armstead  told  her 
that  his  mother  with  Fenton  was  awaiting  her,  with  a  slow  and 
reluctant  step. 

"  Come  in  with  me,  Ellen,"  she  said,  as  her  friend  was 
turning  away,  l- 1  always  do  better  in  company  than  alone ;" 
but  as  she  reached  the  threshold  of  the  door,  she  hesitated, 
and  turning  to  Armstead,  said,  "  Do  you,  William,  go  in  and 


392  REDWOOD. 

invent  some  apology  for  me,  I  will  meet  Fenton  at  breakfast — 
it  will  save  us  both  useless  embarrassment." 

"  Pshaw,  Grace  !  don't  behave  like  a  child,"  replied  her 
cousin,  and  at  the  same  instant  he  settled  the  mode  of  proce- 
dure by  throwing  open  the  door,  and  saying  with  affected  for- 
mality, "Miss  Campbell,  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  my 
cousin  Fenton — my  sometime  friend  Howard." 

Grace  forgot  for  once  whether  she  was  in  company  or  alone, 
forgot  «very  thing  but  the  surprising  certainty  that  Howard 
and  Fenton  were  the  self-same  person — every  trace  of  displea- 
sure vanished  from  her  face,  unmixed  delight  shone  in  her 
brightened  eye  and  glowing  cheek,  and  without  noticing  the 
joyful  expression  of  her  aunt's  face,  the  ludicrous  twist  of  Wil- 
liam Armstead's  mouth,  or  the  sympathy  that  moistened  Ellen's 
eye,  she  gave  Fenton  her  hand,  and  in  virtue  of  his  being 
friend,  lover,  or  cousin,  one  or  all,  permitted  him  to  devour  it 
with  kisses 

"  Come,  my  dear  mother,  come,  Miss  Bruce,"  said  William 
Armstead,  "  I  believe  we  may  trust  to  the  good  faith  of  our 
friends  to  make  their  compact  without  witnesses."  And  as  he 
followed  the  ladies  out  of  the  room,  he  turned,  and  with  a  very 
wise  and  cautionary  shake  of  the  head,  said,  "  beware,  cousin 
Grace,  beware  a  '  cold,  calculating  Englishman  !'  " 

"  Well,  William,"  asked  Mrs.  Armstead,  "  how  have  you 
contrived  to  keep  Fenton's  secret  so  long  ?  you  ought  to  have 
told  me — you  surely  might  have  trusted  me — you  know  I  am 
no  babbler." 

"  I  know,  dear  mother,  '  thou  wilt  not  utter  what  thou  dost 
not  know.' " 

"  Oh  for  shame,  Will !  I  cannot  possibly  comprehend  of 
what  mighty  consequence  it  could  be  in  the  first  place  to  de- 
vise this  secret — and  then  to  keep  it." 


REDWOOD.  393 

"  Ah,  there  it  is ;  and  this  question  would  have  arisen  in 
your  mind  long  ago,  and  in  spite  of  any  resolution  to  the  con- 
trary, some  significant  look  or  word  would  have  betrayed  our 
ambush  before  we  had  effected  our  purpose." 

"  Still,  Mr.  Arrnstead,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  think  your  mother's 
question  is  a  rational  one — certainly  this  artifice  does  seem  a 
little  juvenile  and  romantic  in  a  man  of  five-and-twenty  ;  and 
a  man  too  of  Mr.  Campbell's  gravity  of  manners." 

"  If  it  seems  to  you  romantic,  Miss  Bruce,  it  must  need 
explanation  ;  and  I  am  certain  that  the  explanation  will  satisfy 
you,  that  Fenton  has  been  sufficiently  rational,  and  you,  my 
dear  mother,  that  in  keeping  his  counsel,  your  son  has  been 
only  prudent."  Armstead  then  proceeded  to  say  that  his 
cousin  had  long  had  the  most  favorable  impression  of  Grace's 
character,  partly  the  consequence  of  the  young  lady's  letters 
to  his  mother,  which  were  often  accompanied  by  generous  gifts, 
always  offered  in  the  most  delicate  manner  ;  and  partly  the 
consequence  of  the  zealous  affection  with  which  his  mother  had 
mentioned  Grace  in  her  letters  to  her  sister-in-law,  and  to  her 
nephew  ;  and  finally,  as  he  reminded  his  mother,  of  her  having 
(notwithstanding  her  surprising  talent  at  keeping  a  secret)  be- 
trayed Grace's  agency  in  the  alteration  of  her  uncle's  will." 

Here  Mrs.  Armstead  interrupted  her  son  to  say  '  that  it 
was  very  fortunate  she  did  make  that  communication ;  for  in  a 
private  letter  which  she  received  from  Fenton  at  the  time,  he 
had  declared  that,  without  the  knowledge  of  that  circumstance, 
he  never  would  have  accepted  his  uncle  Richard's  proposition.' 

"  No  doubt,  dear  mother,  you  had  excellent  reasons  (as  who 
has  not  in  a  like  case)  for  telling  the  secret,  and  abundant  con- 
solations for  having  told  it ;  but  allow  me  to  finish  my  story. 
Fenton,  with  all  these  prejudices  in  Grace's  favor,  arrives  in 
Philadelphia;  is  introduced  to  my  uncle,  and  favorably  re- 
17* 


394  REDWOOD. 

ceived.  He  learns  our  absence  from  the  city,  and  determines 
to  follow  us  immediately ;  he  calls  the  next  morning  to  take 
leave  of  my  uncle,  and  is  informed  by  him,  with  his  usual  gros- 
sierte,  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  he  had  written  to  Grace. 
Fenton  knew  enough  of  his  cousin  to  believe  that  she  would 
be  as  averse  from  giving  her  heart,  as  Falstaff  was  his  reasons, 
on  compulsion  ;  and  when  I  arrived,  most  opportunely,  in 
Philadelphia  on  the  day  he  had  received  this  pretty  piece  of 
information  from  my  uncle,  I  found  him  in  a  web  of  such 
doubts  and  difficulties  as  you  sentimentalists,  Miss  Bruce,  are 
apt  to  weave  about  yourselves." 

"  But  we  sentimentalists,"  rejoined  Ellen,  "  since  you  insist 
on  placing  me  in  that  class,  are  not  apt  to  expose  our  diffi- 
culties to  the  profane  eyes  of  scoffers." 

"  No — and  so  my  cousin  would  probably  have  lost  himself 
in  a  labyrinth,  from  which  no  device  of  human  ingenuity  could 
have  extricated  him,  had  not  some  expressions  that  fell  from 
my  uncle  revealed  to  me  the  secret  of  his  perplexities.  I  went 
immediately  to  Fenton,  disclosed  to  him  my  discoveries,  and 
suggested  the  scheme  which  has  succeeded  so  happily.  My 
uncle  Richard  knew  the  young  people  were  together,  and  be- 
lieved that  all  was  going  on  well  in  obedience  to  his  orders — 
the  complete  retirement  of  my  mother's  place  protected  us 
from  observation,  and  my  lofty  cousin  has  been  wooed  and 
won  in  a  manner  most  flattering  to  her  own,  and  to  Fenton's 
pride." 


REDWOOD.  395 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  God's  holy  word,  once  trivial  in  his  view, 
Now  by  the  voice  of  his  experience  true, 
Seems,  as  it  is,  the  fountain  whence  alone 
Must  spring  that  hope  he  pants  to  make  his  own." 

COWPER. 

SOME  days  glided  away,  while  the  gay  society  at  Lebanon  pre- 
sented nothing  to  the  eye  of  a  casual  observer  but  a  brilliant 
surface  of  pleasure.  But  we  claim  to  be  among  those  gifted 
personages,  who,  like  the  Diable  boiteux,  are  permitted  to  pene- 
trate below  the  surface,  to  visit  secret  retirements,  to  dive  into 
the  depths  of  hidden  thoughts,  to  explore  their  recesses,  and 
to  discover  them  to  the  curious  eye.  Availing  ourselves  of  our 
prerogative,  we  beg  our  readers  to  quit  with  us  the  thronged 
piazzas,  the  dancing  hall,  the  lively  coteries  that  fill  the  public 
rooms,  and  take  a  peep  into  the  respective  apartments  of  the 
individuals  we  have  presumed  to  introduce  to  their  notice. 

And  first,  as  entitled  to  our  chief  interest,  is  Ellen — who, 
in  spite  of  the  beseeching  looks  of  Westall,  and  the  raillery  of 
Grace  Campbell,  persisted  in  secluding  herself  in  her  own 
room. 

"  What  romantic  whim  have  you  taken  into  your  head, 
Ellen  ?"  said  her  friend,  who  had  followed  her  from  the  break- 


396  REDWOOD. 

fast-table  one  morning.  "  Come,  my  dear,  you  must  not  shut 
yourself  up  in  this  cell  any  longer — I  bring  an  absolute  requi- 
sition for  you  from  my  aunt  Armstead,  who  has  ordered  the 
carriage  to  carry  us  all  to  see  the  Shakers,  and  ramble  about 
the  hills  in  the  neighborhood,  to  spy  out  the  beauties  of  the 
land.  Fenton  will  take  his  portfolio  with  him,  and  while  in 
sketching  nature,  he  is  paying  bis  devotions  to  his  first  love,  I 
shall  be  at  liberty  to  give  you  a  lecture  upon  your  duties." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Grace  Campbell — you  can  make  even 
lectures  tolerable." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear ;  but  pray  do  not  look  as  if  you 
were  going  to  the  stake." 

This  was  the  day  on  which  Ellen  expected  a  reply  to  her 
letter  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  and  she  could  not  conceal,  and  dared 
not  explain  the  reluctance  with  which  she  consented  to  an  ar- 
rangement that  must  retard  the  time  of  her  receiving  it.  She 
tried  to  evade  Miss  Campbell's  scrutiny,  by  saying,  with  a 
forced  smile,  "  Such  a  frail  creature  as  I  am  may  well  feel 
dread  of  a  lecture  on  my  duties  ;  but  you  may  perhaps  lessen' 
it  by  telling  me  what  those  are  that  are  to  be  the  subject  of 
your  preaching." 

"  Kindness  to  your  lover — frankness  to  your  friend.  Ellen. 
There  is  poor  Westall  turned  off  with  the  '  fezzenless  bran '  of 
commonplace  civility,  and  I,  who  have  poured  all  my  love-lore 
into  your  ears,  am  obliged  to  make  out  the  history  of  your 
heart  as  well  as  I  can  by  the  index  of  the  changeful  cheek — 
sometimes  deadly  pale,  and  then  lit  up  by  a  glow  that  seems 
the  shadow  of  your  thoughts,  so  quickly  does  it  brighten  and 
fade  away.  You  see,  my  dear,  mysterious  as  you  are,  I  have 
noted  and  comprehend  the  signs  of  the  times." 

Believe  me,  my  dear  friend."  said  Ellen,  taking  Grace's 
hand  affectionately-  "  I  have  a  reason  for  the  suspension  of  my 


REDWOOD.  397 

intercourse  with  Westall — for  my  reserve  to  you,  a  day  or  two 
will,  I  trust  in  heaven,  end  this  mystery  j  and  when  I  am  ab- 
solved from  the  necessity  of  any  further  reserve,  you  shall 
know  all." 

"  God  speed  the  happy  hour,  my  sweet  Ellen,  and  show  me 
that  you  have  reason,  even  in  your  madness." 

The  ladies  were  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Westall,  who  appeared 
at  the  door  with  her  work-box  in  her  hand,  '  come,'  as  she  said, 
'  to  sit  the  morning  with  Miss  Bruce.' 

"  Miss  Bruce  is  engaged  to  ride  with  me,  and  I  hope 
you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  change  your  purpose,  Mrs. 
Westall,"  said  -Miss  Campbell,  "and  occupy  a  seat  in  my 
aunt's  carriage,  which  we  want  very  much  to  have  agreeably 
filled." 

Mrs.  Westall  assented  readily  to  the  polite  request,  and 
while  she  went  for  her  hat  and  shawl,  Miss  Campbell  said, 
"  Your  good  mother  elect  has  taken  you  mightily  into  favor  of 
late,  Ellen.  Straws  show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  I  over- 
heard her  yesterday  zealously  stating  your  claims  to  gentility 
to  the  Elmores  of  New- York — a  point,  you  know,  of  infinite 
moment  in  the  judgment  of  the  daughters  of  a  ci-devant  bar- 
maid." 

"  And  was  Mrs.  Westall  able  to  establish  my  right  to  the 
favorite  epithet  '  genteel  ?'  " 

"  The  pass-word  with  certain  people — yes.  my  dear,  per- 
fectly, I  believe ;  for,  after  hearing  her  statement,  one  of  the 
young  ladies  observed  that  her  mamma  said  she  '  was  sure  you 
was  genteel  from  the  first  moment  she  saw  you,  you  wore  such 
particularly  fine  lace,  and  a  real  camel's  hair  :  those.'  she  said, 
'  were  mamma's  critcrions  for  knowing  a  lady,  they  were  so 
lady-like.'  " 

"  Oh,  what  would  mamma  have  said,"  exclaimed  Elieu,  ••  if 


398  REDWOOD. 

she  had  known  that  I  was  indebted  to  the  generosity  of  Mrs. 
Harrison  for  all  my  lady-like  qualities  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  my  dear,  for  the  inquisition  of  the  young 
ladies  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Harris,  a  relation  and 
dependent  of  the  Osmer  family,  who  rests  her  fame  on  her  pa- 
trician blood,  and  who,  therefore,  had  another,  though  perhaps 
not  quite  as  absurd  a  criterion  by  which  she  would  graduate 
your  rank ;  '  pray,'  she  said,  '  Mrs.  "Westall,  can  you  tell  me 
the  maiden  name  of  Miss  Bruce's  mother  ?  I  once  had  a  very 
distant  relation  who  married  a  Bruce.'  Mrs.  Westall  seemed 
a  little  embarrassed — said  she  did  not  know  ;  and  Mrs.  Harris 
turned  to  Caroline  Redwood,  who  sat  next  her,  and  said,  '  you, 
Miss  Redwood,  can  probably  inform  me  something  of  Miss 
Bruce's  parentage.'  '  I,  ma'am  !'  exclaimed  Miss  Redwood  ; 
'  indeed  I  know  nothing  of  Miss  Bruce  :  I  believe  her  parents 
are  dead  :' — and  her  immovable  color,  Ellen,  for  once  did  move, 
and  she  was  so  pale  for  a  moment,  that  I  really  thought  the 
girl  was  going  to  faint.  Is  it  not  very  strange  she  should  have 
shown  so  much  emotion  on  the  subject  ?" 

"  Yes,  very  strange ;  but  nothing  from  Miss  Redwood  can 
ever  surprise  me."  said  Ellen. 

Miss  Campbell  looked  on  Ellen  for  a  moment  earnestly, 
and  then  said,  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  The  old  woman's  curi- 
osity is  natural  enough,  and  I  should  like  to  gratify  it.  Do 
tell  me,  Ellen,  your  mother's  maiden  name  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  Miss  Campbell — do  not  ask  me,"  re- 
plied Ellen,  with  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  sweet  friend,"  exclaimed  Grace  Campbell, 
recovering  her  usual  frank  manner,  and  throwing  her  arm 
around  Ellen's  neck  and  kissing  her  pale  cheek ;  "  forgive  my 
silly  curiosity — every  shade  of  it  has  passed  away.  I  care  not 
what  mine  the  diamond  comes  from,  so  long  as  I  know  by  every 


REDWOOD.  399 

test  that  it  is  a  diamond  of  the  first  water.  Come,  put  on 
your  '  real  camel's  hair,'  it  is  a  cool  morning,  and  my  aunt  is 
waiting  for  us." 

The  ladies  joined  Mrs.  Westall  iu  the  passage,  and  they 
proceeded  together. 

"  Where  is  your  son  this  morning,  Mrs.  Westall  ?"  asked 
Grace  Campbell ;  "  he  hardly  deserves  an  inquiry,  recreant 
knight  that  he  is." 

"  Oh,  say  not  so,  Miss  Campbell ;  he  is  detained  from  us 
by  a  painful  duty ;  he  has  scarcely  left  Mr.  Redwood's  bedside 
for  the  last  two  days — poor  man :  Charles  thinks  him  declin- 
ing rapidly." 

"  There  is  no  doubt,"  replied  Miss  Campbell,  "  that  he  is 
sinking  very  fast.  I  saw  him  yesterday  sitting  by  his  window; 
I  observed  he  had  the  ghastly  paleness  of  death ;  and  though 
he  bowed  to  me  with  his  usual  courtesy,  not  a  muscle  of  his 
face  moved." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Ellen — "  I  believe  he  is  not  as  ill  as  you 
imagine ;  he  suffers  from  extreme  depression  of  spirits." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Campbell ;  "  but  this  very  depression 
aggravates  his  disease.  He  is,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  in  the 
very  depths  of  nervous  misery.  I  heard  his  insensible  daugh- 
ter say  to  Fitzgerald  yesterday,  that  she  expected  her  father 
would  come  out  a  Methodist  at  last,  for  she  never  went  into 
his  room  that  she  did  not  find  him  with  a  Bible  in  his  hands." 

"  A  Bible  !"  exclaimed  Ellen — "  God  be  praised  !" 

Miss  Campbell  caught  the  fine  expression  of  Ellen's  up- 
raised eye — "What  a  little  enthusiast  you  are,  Ellen.  You 
would  make  an  admirable  lay-preacher ;  but  in  the  present  rage 
for  division  of  labor,  it  is  not  proper  to  preach  and  practise 
too ;  so  you  shall  practise  and  I  will  preach :  shall  we  unite 
our  talents  for  the  consolation  of  Mr.  Redwood  ?" 


400  REDWOOD. 

"  I  should  rejoice  in  any  vocation  that  could  administer 
consolation  to  him,"  replied  Ellen. 

"  No  doubt,  my  dear,"  said  her  lively  friend  ;  "  but  pray 
keep  your  holy  zeal  to  yourself,  for  here  comes  Fenton,  a  sworn 
disciple  of  Gall  and  Spurzheim,  and  we  shall  have  him  explor- 
ing your  head  for  the  '  organ  of  veneration,'  and  your  heart  for 
its  correspondent  qualities ;  and  then  I  am  afraid  I  shall  find 
to  my  cost  that  he  is  without  the  '  organ  of  adhesiveness' — that, 
I  suppose,  may  stand  for  constancy  in  your  physico-metaphy- 
sics,  Fenton?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Grace ;  and  if  I  do  not  possess  it,  finely  de- 
veloped too,  I  will  sacrifice  my  theory  to  experience,  like  a  true 
philosopher." 

Miss  Campbell  was  about  to  reply,  when  her  aunt  said. 
"  You  forget  we  are  waiting  for  you,  Grace.  Fenton,  hand  Mrs, 
Westall  to  the  carriage.  Give  Heaven  all  due  thanks,  Mrs 
Westall,  that  you  have  not  a  pair  of  lovers  on  your  hands." 

"  I  should  be  in  a  much  more  grateful  humor  if  I  had," 
replied  Mrs.  Westall,  looking  kindly  on  Ellen. 

Ellen  would  have  comprehended  Mrs.  Westall's  meaning 
without  the  interpreting  glance  that  beamed  on  her  from  Miss 
Campbell's  eye,  and  she  sprang  into  the  carriage  after  her 
friend,  her  heart  quite  lightened  of  one  burden  that  had  press- 
ed sorely  on  it. 

In  the  mean  time  Westall,  abstracting  his  mind  as  far  as 
possible  from  his  owl  deeply  interesting  concerns,  was  perform- 
ing his  benevolent  duty  at  the  bedside  of  Mr.  Redwood,  whose 
decline  was  indeed  more  rapid  than  even  his  friend,  who  knew 
the  feverish  state  of  his  mind,  could  have  anticipated.  At 
times,  fixed  in  the  gloom  of  deep  despondency,  his  mind  seemed 
cut  off  from  all  communion  with  the  external  world :  his  ap- 
pearance was  that  of  a  man  suffering  from  the  frightful  images 


REDWOOD.  40 1 

of  a  dream  ;  his  fixed  and  glassy  eye — the  drops  of  sweat  that 
stood  thick  on  his  livid  brow — his  fixed  posture — his  clenched 
hands — his  whole  attitude  and  expression  betrayed  utter  des- 
pair. At  these  moments  all  Westall's  efforts  to  arouse  him 
seemed  not  to  make  the  slightest  impression  on  his  senses — 
but,  suddenly,  he  would  turn  his  eager  eye  on  his  young  friend, 
and  listen  to  him  as  if  the  sentence  of  life  or  death  was  on  his 
lips,  while  Westall  set  forth  the  arguments  for  the  truth  of  our 
religion  with  which  his  familiarity  with  its  evidences  furnished 
him,  and  suggested  its  hopes  and  consolations.  There  were 
intervals,  too,  when  Redwood  felt  as  if  he  had  attained  a  living 
fountain — as  if  his  spirit  was  for  ever  emancipated  from  the 
bondage  of  doubt  and  despondency,  and  peace  was  commanded 
on  his  troubled  mind ;  but  these  intervals  were  short :  "  Ah, 
Westall,"  he  would  exclaim.  "  I  am  afraid  to  trust  myself.  I 
know  not  how  far  my  mind  is  enfeebled  by  disease.  I  know  not 
how  far  my  faith  and  hope  may  have  their  source  in  the  strong 
necessity  I  feel  for  present  relief.  The  objects  of  sense  are 
becoming  dim  to  my  sight — the  cold  shadows  of  death  are 
settling  about  me  :  my  dear  Charles,  in  this  frightful  state,  can 
I  calmly  investigate  the  evidence  of  the  truth  of  a  religion 
which  promises  pardon  to  the  penitent  for  the  past — resurrec- 
tion and  immortal  life  for  the  future  ?" 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Westall,  "  there  have  been 
men,  in  intellectual  power  the  first  of  their  species,  who  in  the 
full  vigor  of  their  faculties,  with  the  aids  of  learning  and 
leisure,  have  calmly  pursued  their  honest  inquiries,  and  have 
received  our  blessed  religion  as  the  rule  of  life — the  victory 
over  death." 

"  True — true,  Westall ;  but  names  have  now  no  authority 
with  me.  I  have  been  too  long  their  dupe  and  victim.  Oh, 
how  in  my  folly  I  have  admired,  and  praised,  and  almost  wor- 


402  BEDWOOD. 

shipped  those  daring  champions  and  teachers  of  unbelief,  who 
lived  fearlessly,  and  braved  undaunted  the  terrors  of  death  ! 
Now  I  see  nothing  in  what  seemed  to  me  their  philosophic  for- 
titude, but  an  obstinate  vanity,  a  pride  of  opinion,  a  self-deify- 
ing, that  made  them  render  homage  to  their  own  consequence, 
when  they  should  have  sought  the  God  of  their  spirits. 

"  Westall,  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  such  a  death  as 
Gibbon's,  Hume's,  Voltaire's — if  their  indifference  to  the  future 
was  unaffected,  what  a  voluntary  degradation  to  the  level  of 
the  brute  creation  !  if  pretended,  what  mad  audacity  !" 

"  But  surely,"  said  Westall,  "  there  is  honest  skepticism  in 
the  world.  There  are  minds  so  constituted,  or  exposed  to 
such  unhappy  influences,  that  unbelief  becomes  a  condition 
almost  irresistible." 

"  Yes — it  may  be  so,"  replied  Mr.  Redwood ;  "  it  must  be 
so — but  for  my  own  case,  I  have  no  such  flattering  unction. 
Humbling  as  the  confession  is,  Charles,"  he  added,  (taking  up 
the  Bible  which  now  was  almost  always  in  his  hands.)  till  with- 
in this  last  month,  I  have  never  read  this  book  with  serious- 
ness— never  but  from  idle  curiosity,  or  to  find  exercise  for  my 
ingenuity,  or  food  for  my  ridicule :  and  now  I  would  give 
worlds  for  one  year,  nay  one  month  of  the  life  that  in  my  folly 
and  madness  I  have  cursed  as  a  weary  burden  imposed  by  ar- 
bitrary power,  that  my  mind  might  be  opened  to  the  light 
which  has  dawned  on  it  from  that  book — my  heart  reformed 
by  its  rules — renewed  by  its  influence." 

"God  grant  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Westall,  fervently 
grasping  Mr.  Redwood's  hand,  ".not  one  but  many  years  to 
be  blessed  with  its  efficacy.  But  for  the  present  let  me  en- 
treat you  to  dismiss  all  agitating  thoughts,  and  to  make  an 
effort  only  for  that  resignation  which  is  the  first  principle  of 
our  religion,  and  which  will  certainly  produce  inviolable  repose." 


REDWOOD.  403 

The  conversation  of  the  gentlemen  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  Miss  Redwood,  who  came  to  make  her  usual  morn- 
ing visit.  She  lingered  longer  than  usual,  and  inquired  with 
more  particularity  into  her  father's  symptoms.  She  entreated 
him  to  send  to  town  for  a  physician — examined  the  vials  on 
his  table,  and  expressed  her  fears  that  every  thing  was  not  go- 
ing on  right.  Her  father  observed  a  good  deal  of  agitation  in 
her  manner — he  thought  it  indicated  unusual  solicitude,  and 
he  was  touched  by  it. 

"  My  dear  Caroline,"  he  said,  "  all  might  perhaps  go  right 
if  you  would  come  and  help  my  kind  friend  Charles  to  nurse 
me." 

"  Lord,  papa,  I  would  with  all  my  heart :  I  should  like  to 
do  any  thing — every  thing  for  you ;  but  you  know  I  am  no 
nurse,  and  sickness  is  so  frightful." 

"  Frightful,  indeed,  Caroline ;  but  a  child's  tenderness 
might,  I  think,  deprive  it  of  half  its  terrors." 

"  Well,  dear  papa,"  whispered  Caroline,  slipping  a  letter 
into  her  father's  hand,  "  grant  the  petition  this  letter  contains, 
and  I  will  stay  day  and  night  with  you  for  a  fortnight  to 
come." 

Mr.  Redwood  took  the  letter,  and  detained  Caroline's 
hand,  though  she  was  evidently  impatient  to  withdraw.  West- 
all  rose  to  leave  the  room.  "  Stay,  I  entreat  you.  Westall,  and 
you,  Caroline — one  moment's  patience,  my  child — I  anticipate 
the  contents  of  this  letter.  Charles  must  be  the  bearer  of  my 
answer  to  it :  you  should  have  no  reserves  from  him,  Caroline, 
for  after  I  am  gone  he  must  be  your  protector  till  your  mar- 
riage transfers  that  duty  to  another." 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  replied   Miss   Redwood,  with  a  look  of  anx- 

* 

iety  and  displeasure,  "  that  I  shall  be  permitted  to  choose  my 
own  protector." 


404  REDWOOD. 

Westall  walked  to  the  extreme  part  of  the  room  to  relieve 
Caroline  as  far  as  possible  from  the  embarrassment  of  his 
presence,  while  her  father  read  the  letter,  which  contained,  as 
he  expected,  a  declaration  of  Captain  Fitzgerald's  love  for  his 
daughter,  and  protestations  of  respect  for  himself,  witten  in 
good  set  terms,  and  according  to  the  most  approved  formu- 
laries, and  concluding  with  the  modest  request,  authorized  by 
Miss  Redwood,  that  Mr.  Redwood  would  consent  to  their  im- 
mediate union. 

"  Is  it  possible.  Caroline,"  said  Mr.  Redwood,  laying  his 
finger  on  the  last  request  in  the  letter,  "  that  you  authorized 
or  approved  this  ?"  ** 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  would  desert  your  sick — your  dying  father,  to 
go  off  with  this  fellow — a  stranger — a  fortune-hunter — a  pro- 
fligate !" 

Caroline's  color  deepened  at  every  additional  epithet  her 
father  bestowed  on  her  lover :  she  flashed  an  indignant  glance 
on  Westall,  as  if  she  would  have  said  '  an  enemy  hath  done 
this  ;'  and  commanding  her  voice  as  well  as  she  was  able,  she 
replied,  "  You  are  very  unjust,  papa :  your  mind  has  been  set 
against  us ;  and  you  forget  that  if  Captain  Fitzgerald  or  I 
had  deserved  your  cruel  suspicions,  we  should  have  taken  a 
very  different  course ;  if  your  fears  are  well-founded,  a  short 
time  may  leave  me  at  liberty  to  bestow  my  hand  and  fortune 
when  and  where  I  please  ;  but  I  neither  expected  nor  wished 
that  liberty.  Fitzgerald,  whatever  you  may  think,  is  a  man 
of  honor ;  and  I  am  sure  he  is  sincere,  when  he  says  in  his 
letter  that  next  to  my  affection,  he  desires  your  favor." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt — my  favor  and  its  consequences ; 
but  he  shall  have  neither — Westall,  tell  him  so,"  added  Mr. 
Redwood,  raising  his  voice  above  his  daughter's,  who  was  giv- 


REDWOOD.  405 

ing  vent  to  her  feelings  in  hysterical  sobs ;  u  tell  Fitzgerald  I 
will  never  consent  to  his  marriage  with  my  daughter  ;  tell  him 
that  I  am  a  dying  man,  but  let  him  found  no  hopes  thereon, 
for  I  am  resolved,  that  if  my  daughter  ever  marries  him,  she 
shall  forfeit  her  fortune." 

"  And  who,"  said  Caroline,  recovering  perfectly  her  self- 
possession,  "  who  shall  receive  it  ?  the  smooth  pious  Ellen. 
Bruce — or  the  kind  friend  Charles  Westall — or  perhaps  some 
missionary  or  tract  society  ?" 

"  Oh  Caroline,  Caroline  !"  exclaimed  her  father,  in  sorrow 
more  than  in  anger,  ';  God  forgive  you."  After  a  moment's 
pause,  he  added  in  a  voice  faltering  from  extreme  weakness, 
but  thrilling  from  the  earnestness  which  deep  feeling  gave  to 
its  tones,  "  Oh  my  child,  give  me  your  confidence  for  the  few 
days  of  life  that  remain  to  me — think  no  more  of  this  man — 
he  is  not  worthy  of  you — he  is  not  worthy  the  trust  of  any 
delicate  woman :  give  to  my  last  hours,  Caroline,  the  consola- 
tion of  a  voluntary  surrender  of  your  feelings  and  judgment 
to  mine." 

Caroline  made  no  reply. 

"  Speak  for  me,  Westall,"  continued  Mr.  Kedwood,  raising 
himself  and  leaning  his  head  against  the  post  of  his  bedstead, 
"  speak  for  me,  I  have  neither  voice  nor  strength." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,  sir,"  said  Westall,  and  he  turned  an 
appealing  look  on  Caroline,  as  he  added,  "  Miss  Redwood  will 
not,  I  am  certain,  resist  what  you  have  already  said." 

"  And  who,  or  what,  sir,"  asked  Caroline,  her  spirit  rising 
from  the  control  of  her  better  feelings,  "  has  given  you  a  right 
to  interfere  in  my  private  concerns?" 

"  Your  father." 

"  My  father,  sir,  cannot  delegate  his  rights  nor  my  obe- 
dience." 


406  REDWOOD. 

"  But  your  father,  Caroline,"  interposed  Mr.  Redwood, 
"  can  make  your  obedience  a  necessity — go.  Westall,  and  make 
my  decision  known  to  Fitzgerald." 

"  Permit  me,  sir,  at  least,"  said  Caroline,  "  to  be  the  bearer 
of  your  message.  It  should,  I  think,  be  tempered  by  some 
friendliness  in  the  messenger." 

"  Go,  then,  child — and  if  you  have  no  regard  for  me,  re- 
spect yourself ;  open  your  eyes  to  the  real  views  of  this  man, 
and  dismiss  him  for  ever  from  your  thoughts." 

Caroline  deigned  no  reply,  but  left  the  room,  her  face  in- 
dicating the  determination  of  an  imperious  spirit. 

"  Oh  Westall,  Westall !"  exclaimed  Redwood,  "  from  what 
misery  I  might  have  saved  myself  and  my  child  by  the  timely 
performance  of  my  duties  to  her." 

He  seemed  for  a  few  moments  lost  in  sorrowful  reflections, 
and  then  starting  up,  he  asked  Westall  if  there  were  yet  no 
letters  from  Mrs.  Harrison. 

Westall,  whose  ear  had  been  quickened  by  his  impatience, 
said  he  trusted  there  was  a  letter  at  the  office,  for  he  had  just 
heard  the  horn  of  the  post-coach  as  it  descended  the  eastern 
hills. 

"  Go,  then,  dear  Charles,  and  get  the  letter — the  warrant 
for  your  happiness  ;  and  God  grant  that  I  may  see  the  best 
blessings  of  his  providence  resting  on  you  before  I  die." 

After  a  long  interview  with  her  lover,  which  was  spent 
chiefly  in  listening  to  passionate  declarations  of  disinterested 
affection,  which  she  more  than  half  believed.  Miss  Redwood 
retired  to  her  room  in  great  agitation  of  spirits  and  summoned 
her  servant.  When  Lilly  appeared,  she  received  a  communi- 
cation which  rendered  it  necessary  that  she  should  make  new 
arrangements  of  her  mistress's  baggage — trunks  and  band- 
boxes were  emptied  on  to  the  bed,  chairs,  and  floor,  and  from 


REDWOOD.  407 

the  chaos  of  fine  clothes,  the  mistress  and  maid  proceeded  to 
make  such  selections  as  their  taste  and  discretion  dictated. 

Neither  the  principal  nor  agent  seemed  to  possess  the  calm- 
ness necessary  to  the  execution  of  these  sudden  preparations. 
Indeed  it  was  difficult  to  say  which  was  most  flurried  with  her 
own  individual  purposes  and  expectations.  Lilly,  on  sundry 
pretexts,  went  often  out  of  the  room,  and  always  returned  in  a 
humor  to  deserve  the  pettish  rebuke  which  she  received  from 
Caroline.  But  the  rebuke  was  no  sooner  given  than  retracted  ; 
for  Caroline,  afraid  of  the  consequences  of  provoking  the  girl, 
conciliated  her  by  some  petty  gift — some  olive-branch  symbol, 
which  mistresses  and  maids  both  comprehend.  Those  only 
who  understand  the  momentous  and  intricate  details  of  a  fine 
lady's  wardrobe,  will  believe  that  the  remainder  of  the  day 
was  consumed  in  packing  a  trunk  of  ordinary  dimensions. 

Caroline  then  proceeded  herself  to  arrange  her  dressing- 
case  :  after  having  stowed  away  compactly  its  usual  apparatus, 
she  inclosed  the  treasure  rifled  from  Ellen  in  a  sheet  of  paper, 
carefully  sealed  it,  and  then  placed  it  in  the  dressing-case. 
She  laid  in  her  purse  also,  locked  it,  and  gave  the  key  to  Lilly. 

"  Now,  Lilly."  she  said,  "  I  believe  every  thing  is  ready. 
I  trust  in  heaven  we  shall  return  to-morrow ;  but  if  we  do  not, 
we  have  secured  every  thing  of  value."  Miss  Kedwood  looked 
at  her  watch  ;  "  it  is  time  to  go,"  she  said,  hurrying  on  her  hat 
and  shawl :  "  do  you,  Lilly,  drag  the  trunk  to  the  farther  stair- 
case, you'll  find  a  man  there  ready  to  receive  it — then  return 
and  take  the  dressing-case  in  your  own  hands — remember,  girl, 
my  purse  is  in  it,  and  I  had  rather  lose  every  thing  else  that  I 
possess,  than  that  any  thing  should  happen  to  it — but  stop,  let 
me  see,  cannot  I  take  it  myself?  just  tuck  it  under  my  shawl 
— no  one  will  observe  it." 

Lilly  gave  the  dressing-case  to  her  mistress :  "  But  Lord 


408 


REDWOOD. 


bless  me.  Miss  Caroline,"  she  said,  "  it  makes  you  such  a  fig- 
ure— just  look  in  the  glass." 

Caroline  looked,  but  for  once  her  appearance  seemed  to  be 
a  secondary  object. 

"  I  will  take  it  myself,  Lilly,"  she  said,  "  it's  nonsense  to 
stand  here  deliberating  about  it.  I  shall  only  carry  it  to  the 
door,  and  then  give  it  to  Captain  Fitzgerald." 

Caroline  opened  the  door — Lilly  laid  her  hand  on  it.  "  Now, 
Miss  Gary,"  she  said,  beseechingly,  "  do  give  in  to  me  for  once. 
It  will  look  so  unbecoming  for  the  captain  to  be  seen  carrying 
your  dressing-case — Lord  help  us,  a  footman's  work  !" 

"  Hush,  girl,  I  must  go" — 

"  You  may  go,  Miss  Gary,  but  for  goodness'  sake  give  me 
the  dressing-case — why  I  shall  whip  down  the  hill,  across  the 
fields,  and  be  at  the  carriage  before  you." 

"  Take  it,  then,  you  fool,"  said  Caroline  :  and  she  resigned 
the  dressing-case,  and  turned  hastily  away.  She  stole  along 
the  passage  with  the  silent  tread  of  a  culprit :  when -she  came 
to  her  father's  door  a  pang  of  remorse,  possibly  an  emotion  of 
filial  feeling,  checked  her  footsteps,  '  he  looked  so  terribly  ill 
this  morning,'  she  said,  mentally — '  Good  heaven  !  should  I 
never  see  him  again.'  She  lifted  her  hand  to  knock  for  admit- 
tance, when  she  was  arrested  by  a  voice  that  alarm  just  raised 
above  a  whisper — "  Miss  Redwood  !  my  dear  Miss  Redwood  ! 
what  are  you  doing  ? — For  heaven's  sake  no  more  delay."  The 
thought  of  her  father  vanished  from  her  mind — she  bounded 
forward — gave  her  arm  to  Fitzgerald,  and  they  passed  together 
unobserved  out  of  the  house. 

The  last  ray  of  summer's  long  twilight  was  not  quite  lost  in 
the  shadows  of  the  evening,  and  the  fugitives  prudently  selected 
the  most  unfrequented  road,  by  which  to  descend  to  the  plain 
below,  where  a  carriage  was  in  waiting  for  them. 


REDWOOD.  409 

The  poets  say,  '  the  course  of  true  love  never  doth  run 
smooth,'  and  so  thought  Miss  Redwood,  when  half  way  down 
the  hill  she  and  her  companion  were  encountered  by  Ellen  and 
Westall.  Westall  had,  early  in  the  day.  obtained  possession 
of  the  looked-for  letter  from  Lansdown,  and  having  awaited 
Ellen's  return,  till  patience  had  had  her  perfect  work,  and 
would  work  no  longer,  he  had  sallied  forth  in  the  expectation 
of  meeting  the  returning  party,  as  he  did  at  no  great  distance. 

They  had  been  delayed  by  an  accident  that  had  lamed  one 
of  their  horses,  a  circumstance  that  afforded  a  pretext  to 
Westall  to  propose  to  the  young  ladies  to  quit  the  carriage  and 
walk  up  the  hill ;  and  he,  leaving  Miss  Campbell  with  her  na- 
tural escort  Fenton,  proceeded  with  Ellen,  and  for  a  very  good 
reason  had  preferred,  as  lovers  are  apt  to  do,  without  any  rea- 
son at  all,  the  most  retired  road. 

As  soon  as  they  were  removed  from  observation,  he  pro- 
duced Mrs.  Harrison's  letter,  and  Ellen  was  attempting  to  read 
it  by  the  feeble  light,  when  they  were  met  by  Miss  Redwood 
and  Fitzgerald.  Fitzgerald  internally  cursed  the  unlucky  en- 
counter, and  Caroline  drew  her  bonnet  closer  ;  but  any  appre- 
hensions they  might  feel  seemed  quite  unnecessary,  for  Ellen 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  the  letter,  and  Westall  only  noticed 
them  by  slightly  touching  his  hat,  being  at  the  moment  too 
much  engrossed  with  his  own  affairs  to  have  any  suspicions  ex- 
cited in  relation  to  theirs.  They  therefore  proceeded  unmo- 
lested to  the  place  where  the  carriage  was  stationed,  a  servant 
let  down  the  steps,  and  Fitzgerald  was  hurrying  Caroline  into 
it.  when  she  started  back,  exclaiming,  "  Good  heavens  !  Lilly 
is  not  here — I  cannot  go  till  she  comes." 

The  servant  who  had  brought  the  trunk,  on  being  inquired 
of,  said  that  the  girl  had  left  him  with  the  declaration  that  she 
•would  follow  immediately.  "  Then,"  said  Caroline,  "  there  is 
18 


410  REDWOOD. 

no  alternative — we  must  wait — I  cannot  and  will  not  go  with- 
out her." 

It  certainly  was  not  Fitzgerald's  cue  as  yet  to  cross  the  will 
or  whims  of  Miss  Redwood,  and  he  submitted  with  the  best  t 
grace  he  could  assume.  A  servant  was  sent  back  to  the 
springs  to  hasten  the  faithless  girl,  and  returned  after  an  inter- 
val that  had  seemed  to  the  anxious  and  impatient  lovers -inter- 
minable, with  the  perplexing  information  that  LiLy  was  no- 
where to  be  found. 

Caroline  was  in  despair,  and  Captain  Fitzgerald,  impatient 
at  her  manifesting  a  degree  of  feeling  which  he  deemed  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  occasion,  could  scarcely 
curb  his  displeasure  while  he  urged  the  necessity  of  their  pro- 
ceeding immediately. 

"  "We  are  mad  to  delay 'thus,  my  dear  Miss  Redwood,"  said 
he  ;  "  you  are,  no  doubt,  missed  before  this  time  :  that  med- 
dling fellow,  Westall,  will  be  sure  to  tell  your  father  that  he 
saw  us  :  our  plans  will  be  counteracted — my  happiness  sacri- 
ficed. The  girl  is  doubtless  detained  by  some  trifling  acci- 
dent ;  or  if  by  her  own  fault,  her  insolence  shall  be  chastised 
to-morrow — for  to-morrow,  my  dear  Miss  Redwood,  we  shall, 
beyond  all  question,  return." 

"  Think  yo  .i  so — are  you  sure  of  it,  Captain  Fitzgerald  ?" 

"  Absolutely  sure — it  cannot  be  otherwise." 

"  Then  order  the  coachman  to  drive  on,"  said  Caroline, 
sinking  back  into  the  carriage  in  a  state  of  mind  ill  suited  to 
the  errand  on  which  she  was  going. 

In  vain  Fitzgerald  essayed  to  soothe,  to  argue,  to  flattei 
her  into  her  usual  spirits.  Her  imagination  pictured  a  dying, 
unforgiving  father  :  the  beseeching,  pathetic  tones  of  his  voice, 
to  which  in  the  morning  she  had  refused  to  listen,  rang  in  her 
ears  like  a  funeral  knell :  she  was  now  tortured  with  the  fear 


REDWOOD.  411 

that  Lilly  had  been  treacherous,  and  now  with  the  possibility 
that  the  secret  of  the  dressing-case  might  be  accidentally  re- 
vealed ;  and  when  she  arrived  at  the  place  of  their  destination. 
a  village  inn  a  few  miles  from  Lebanon,  her  feelings  were 
wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  excitement  little  short  of  frenzy. 

Fitzgerald  ascertained  that  the  pastor  of  the  village  was 
absent,  but  that  fortunately  there  had  just  arrived  at  the  inn 
an  itinerant  clergyman,  who,  to  use  his  own  homely  phrase,  was 
'  candidating  about  the  country,'  and  though  a  very  inferior 
member  of  a  most  respectable  body,  he  was  regularly  licensed, 
and  was  therefore  legally  qualified  to  perform  the  marriage 
ceremony.  Some  time  elapsed  before  Miss  Redwood  became 
so  much  tranquillized  that  Fitzgerald  deemed  it  prudent  to 
expose  her  to  the  observation  of  a  third  person. 

She  at  last  yielded,  partly  to  the  influence  of  her  lover,  and 
partly  to  the  propriety — the  now  inevitable  necessity — of  con- 
trolling her  feelings.  The  clergyman  was  summoned — he  took 
his  station — appointed  to  the  parties  theirs,  and  then  drawing 
a  hymn-book  from  his  pocket,  he  said,  '  it  would  be  pleasing  if 
the  gentleman  and  lady  would  commence  the  present  solemn 
exercise  by  singing  a  hymn.' 

"  Singing  a  hymn  !"  exclaimed  Fitzgerald :  "  Is  that  a  ne- 
cessary part  of  the  marriage  service  in  this  country,  sir  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  not  necessary,  but  very  suitable.  I  don't  know 
what  the  custom  may  be  here  in  York  state,  but  in  Connecti- 
cut it  is  quite  customary  to  close  a  marriage  opportunity  with 
a  singing  exercise.  I  thought,  upon  the  present  interesting 
occasion,  it  would  be  best  to  begin  with  the  singing,  as  the 
young  lady  looks  a  little  flurried,  and  might  not  be  able  to 
unite  with  us  after  the  solemnity  is  concluded." 

"  We  will  dispense  with  the  hymn,  sir."  said  Fitzgerald, 
smothering  an  imprecation  on  the  whole  body  of  puritanical 


412  REDWOOD. 

parsons.  "  Please  to  proceed  to  do  your  office,  and  with  all 
possible  brevity." 

The  clergyman,  however,  had  quite  too  much  respect  for 
professional  details  to  comply  with  the  last  injunction.  He 
began  with  a  dissertation  on  the  happiness  of  the  married 
state  ;  he  then  proceeded  to  an  exhortation  to  the  faithful  per- 
formance of  its  duties,  and  closed  his  prefatory  '  exercise'  with 
a  prayer,  which  it  is  to  be  feared  failed  to  produce  devotion  in 
the  parties. 

The  prayer  finished,  he  began  the  service  that  was  to  bind 
Caroline  indissolubly  to  Fitzgerald,  when  the  whole  party  was 
startled  by  loud  and  reiterated  knocking  at  the  outer  door. 

Fitzgerald's  conscience  foreboded  evil :  he  quitted  Caroline's 
side  and  sprang  towards  the  door  to  turn  the  key ;  but  no  key, 
no  bolt,  no  means  of  fastening  were  to  be  found.  He  returned 
to  Caroline  ;  she  was  trembling  excessively  ;  he  took  her  hand, 
and  whispered,  "  For  heaven's  sake  be  composed — what  should 
we  fear  from  an  interruption?"  and  then  addressing  the  cler- 
gyman, he  said  somewhat  sternly,  "  proceed,  sir,  to  your  duty." 

But  the  good  meek  man  was  not  at  all  qualified  for  so  ener- 
getic a  measure,  and  while  he  hesitated,  the  noise  in  the  pas- 
sage increased.  The  intruder  had  made  good  his  entrance, 
and  was  in  altercation  with  the  landlord.  The  declaration  "  I 
must  see  them,  sir.  and  that  instantly,"  reached  the  ears  of  the 
lovers,  and  was  directly  followed  by  the  throwing  open  of  the 
door  and  the  appearance  of  Charles  Westall. 

••  Why  this  impertinent  intrusion,  sir  ?"  said  Fitzgerald, 
advancing  to  Westall  with  an  air  of  defiance. 

'•  This  is  no  time,  Captain  Fitzgerald."  replied  Westall, 
quite  unmoved,  "  for  us  to  bandy  insults  :  our  quarrel,  if  we 
have  any,  must  be  deferred  ;  my  business  is  with  Miss  Red- 
wood, and  admits  of  no  delay.  Miss  Redwood,"  he  added. 


REDWOOD.  413 

turning  to  Caroline  and  taking  her  hand,  "  I  beseech  you  to 
return  with  me  to  your  father.  I  have  left  him  in  a  state  that 
precludes  all  hope  of  his  life ;  that  precludes,  I  fear,  the  hope 
that  he  will  ever  recover  his  consciousness." 

"  Then  of  what  use,  sir,  can  Miss  Redwood's  return  be  ?" 
interposed  Fitzgerald. 

';  Of  what  use  ! — I  appeal  to  you,  Miss  Redwood :  your 
father  may  be  conscious  of  your  presence  ;  an  act  of  duty  and 
affection  may  soften  the  anguish  of  the  dying  hour;  it  may, 
Miss  Redwood,  be  a  source  of  consolation  for  yourself,  which, 
believe  me,  you  will  need." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Mr.  Westall,"  replied  Caroline,  in  a 
faltering  voice,  and  she  threw  on  her  hat  and  shawl  which  were 
lying  beside  her,  and  offered  her  arm  to  Westall. 

Fitzgerald  thrust  himself  between  Westall  and  Caroline, 
and  seizing  her  arm,  turned  fiercely  to  Westall.  "  Stand  off, 
sir  !"  said  he  ;  "  I  have  a  right  to  Miss  Redwood.  Miss  Red- 
wood, you  have  plighted  your  faith  to  me  ;  you  cannot — shall 
not  leave  me  till  the  priest  has  done  his  office." 

"  Captain  Fitzgerald,"  said  Westall,  "  you  need  not  appre- 
hend any  interference  with  your  rights :  matters  have  gone  too 
far  between  you  and  Miss  Redwood  to  be  retraced:  all  that  I 
ask — all  that  I  wish  is,  that  you  will  not  attempt  to  deter  her 
from  doing  an  imperious  duty,  which  omitting  to  do  will  dis- 
grace her  eternally." 

Fitzgerald  was  softened  by  the  admission  of  what  he  feared 
would  be  a  contested  right;  he  relinquished  Caroline's  arm, 
and  permitted  Westall,  without  any  farther  opposition,  to  lead 
her  to  his  carriage. 

Westall  then  returned  for  a  moment  to  Fitzgerald,  to  be- 
seech him  to  take  all  feasible  measures  to  prevent  the  publicity 
of  the  evening's  expedition ;  if  not  prevented,  he  thought  it 


414  REDWOOD. 

might  be  deferred  till  Miss  Redwood  had  left  the  springs,  and 
she  thus  saved  from  the  disgrace  to  which  a  lady  is  always  ex- 
posed by  a  clandestine  affair.  He  then  left  Fitzgerald  to  take 
such  means  as  his  own  prudence  should  .suggest  to  effect  this 
desirable  purpose,  and  proceeded  with  Caroline,  as  expcdi- 
tiously  as  possible,  to  the  springs,  where  they  arrived  between 
twelve  and  one  o'clock.  Caroline  fortunately  did  not  encoun- 
ter any  person  on  her  way  to  her  own  room,  whither  she  went 
to  await  the  summons  which  Westall  promised  to  send  her  as 
soon  as  he  could  ascertain  her  father's  present  condition. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  account  for  what  appears  to  have 
been  very  impolitic  haste  on  the  part  of  Caroline  and  her 
lover.  The  threatening  symptoms  of  Mr.  Redwood's  increas- 
ing illness,  certainly  warranted  the  natural  hope  of  Fitzgerald, 
that  Miss  Redwood's  parent  did  not  possess  the  gift  of  immor- 
tality, which  impatient  fortune-hunters  are  apt  to  attribute  to 
rich  old  fathers — and  the  constant  and  even  growing  favor  of 
the  beautiful  daughter,  authorized  the  confident  expectation 
which  the  gallant  captain  indulged,  of  a  successful  termination 
of  his  campaign  ;  when,  lo !  one  of  those  adverse  accidents, 
which  happen  alike  in  love  and  war,  occurred  to  frustrate  his 
plan  of  operations :  this  was  none  other  than  the  receipt  of  a 
letter  from  his  commanding  officer,  containing  an  order  to  re- 
join his  regiment ;  and  the  information  that  the  regiment  was 
ordered  to  a  station  in  the  West  Indies. 

The  captain  perceived,  at  once,  that  in  this  exigency  a 
coup  de  main  was  the  only  mode  of  extrication  from  his  em- 
barrassments. He  immediately  informed  Miss  Redwood  of 
his  recall ;  but  as  he  knew  that  the  young  lady  had  set  her 
heart  on  a  voyage  to  Europe,  he  prudently  deferred  to  a  sub- 
sequent opportunity  the  communication  of  the  appointment  of 
his  regiment  to  the  West  India  station.  It  had  become  neces- 


REDWOOD  415 

sary  to  mako  ;i  premature  application  to  Mr.  Redwood  :  Caro- 
line, as  has  been  seen,  unable  to  resist  the  pleadings  of  her 
lover,  Cxjneented  to  be  the  medium  of  it.  Mr.  Redwood's  de- 
cided answer  precluded  the  hope  that  he  would  change  his 
mind.  It  was  impossible  for  the  captain  to  await  the  linger- 
ing termination  of  his  sickness,  and  the  hacknied  procedure  of 
a  clandestine  marriage  was  the  last  and  only  resort. 

Few  fathers  are  inexorable,  and  nothing,  as  Fitzgerald 
thought,  was  more  improbable  than  that  Mr.  Redwood,  with  a 
spirit  subdued  by  a  mortal  sickness,  would  withhold  his  forgive- 
ness from  his  only  child  ;  and,  in  the  very  worst  supposable 
case,  (for  which  Caroline  had  provided  by  the  arrangement  of 
her  baggage,)  the  affairs  of  the  heiress  might  be  committed  to 
an  ageot. 

Thus  had  the  captain,  after  a  survey  of  the  whole  ground, 
with  the  prudence,  of  a  skilful  officer,  provided  for  every  con- 
tingency but  precisely  that  one  which  for  the  present  suspemj- 
ed  his  victory. 


416  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  Breaks  not  the  morning's  cheering  light 
Forth  from  the  darkest  hour  of  night?" 

YOUNG  LADY'S  SCRAP-BOOK. 

WE  must  now  return  to  relate  the  incidents  that  had  occurred 
while  Caroline  and  her  lover  were  pursuing  their  clandestine 
expedition.  Ellen  and  Westall  were  left  slowly  retracing  their 
way  to  the  springs,  and  poring  over  Mrs.  Harrison's  letter. 
Whatever  might  have  been  the  excellent  old  lady's  epistolary 
talents,  Westall  certainly  thought  her  letter  a  chef  d'oeuvre 
when  he  read  the  following  passage : 

"  I  have  no  hesitation,  my  beloved  Ellen,  in  giving  you  a 
decision  on  the  subject  you  have  referred  to  me.  You  have 
borne  your  probation  with  unremitting  patience,  and  I  am  sure 
your  fortitude  will  be  equal  to  the  issue,  whatever  it  may  be. 
I  see  no  reason  for  delaying  one  moment  to  penetrate  the  mys- 
tery of  your  birth.  I  have,  as  you  well  know,  admired  and 
encouraged  your  fidelity  to  the  letter  of  your  mother's  dying 
injunctions  ;  and  I  do  not  see  that  you  depart  from  its  spirit 
now.  The  box  was  not  to  be  opened  till  you  had  arrived  at 
the  age  of  twenty-one,  except  in  case  you  should  previously 
make  a  matrimonial  engagement.  The  engagement  made,  you 
were  at  liberty  to  explore  the  box :  but  your  own  delicate  scru- 


REDWOOD.  417 

pies  (which  I  perfectly  approve)  induce  you  to  defer  your  en- 
gagement till  you  ascertain  what  bearing  this  long  dreaded, 
long  desired  secret  may  have  on  your  history.  Though  I  am 
convinced  that  whatever  discovery  you  may  make  will  not 
affect  the  wishes  or  decision  of  your  lover,  yet  you  are  right 
to  leave  him  the  liberty  which  you  reserve  to  yourself. 

"  I  do  not  ask  for  riches  or  honors  for  you,  my  dear  Ellen, 
but  my  earnest  desire  is,  that  you  may  have  sprung  from  vir- 
tuous parents,  whose  memory  you  may  cherish  with  an  honest 
pride,  and  to  a  reunion  with  whom  you  may  look  forward  with 
eager  and  well-founded  hope :  whatever  may  be  the  event,  do 
not  delay  to  inform  me  of  it ;  remember  that  I  must  weep  or 
rejoice  with  you — that  the  light  which  shines  on  you,  will  send 
its  cheering  ray  to  my  old  heart ;  or  if  there  must  be  clouds 
in  your  heaven,  that  they  will  overshadow  me  too — for  we  have 
the  same  horizon." 

Mrs.  Harrison's  advice  was  most  acceptable  and  most  grate- 
fully received,  as  advice  always  is  when  it  happens  to  coincide 
with  the  strongest  inclinations  of  the  heart.  When  the  lovers 
reached  the  house,  they  heard  the  bell  ringing  which  announc- 
ed the  tea  hour,  and  perceived  that  the  company  was  throng- 
ing to  the  tea-room. 

As  they  ascended  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  Westall  said. 
"  Let  us  improve  the  present  opportunity,  Ellen — the  east  par- 
lor is  vacant,  and  for  a  short   time  at  least  we   shall  be  in  no 
.  danger  of  interruption  there.     I  will  order  candles  while  you 
go  for  your  treasure." 

Ellen  assented — left  him.  and  reappeared  in  a  few  moments 
with  the  box  in  her  hand ;  her  checks  were  alternately  deeply 
flushed  and  deadly  pale.  Westall  understood  too  well  the 
source  whence  her  feelings  flowed  to  attempt  to  check  them. 
Ellen  tried  to  unlock  the  box,  but  she  could  not — she  shivered 
18* 


418  REDWOOD. 

•* 

with  emotion.  "  Do  you  open  it,"  she  said,  giving  it  to  West- 
all,  "  for  I  cannot!" 

Westall  as  he  took  the  box  from  her,  perceived  that  her 
hands  were  as  cold  as  marble.  "  Had  you  not  better  defer 
this,  Ellen  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  no.  I  am  prepared  for  any  thing  now,"  she  replied, 
sinking  on  her  knees  before  the  table  on  which  Westall  had 
placed  the  box. 

Westall  turned  the  key,  and  disclosed  to  her  eager  eye  the 
interior,  containing  nothing  but  a  small  miniature-case. 

The  bright  glow  of  expectation  faded  from  Ellen's  cheek. 
"  Oh  my  mother  !  my  mother  !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  in 
which  bitter  disappointment  and  tender  expostulation  mingled. 

Westall  took  her  clasped  hands  between  his — both  were 
silent  for  a  few  moments  :  he  then  said,  "  My  dear  Ellen,  do 
not  distress  yourself  thus — have  not  your  fears  vanished  with 
your  hopes  1  this  unforeseen  result  pains  you,  but  is  it  not 
better,  far  better,  than  much  that  you  have  apprehended  ?  and 
severe  as  your  disappointment  is,  Ellen,  will  you  not  be  con- 
soled by  the  devotion  of  my  life  to  you  ?" 

Ellen  only  replied  by  laying  her  head  on  her  hands  and 
weeping  bitterly. 

Westall  proceeded  to  urge  every  consolation  which  the 
stimulated  tenderness  of  a  lover  could  suggest,  but  Ellen  was 
deaf  to  all  that  he  said.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  that 
moment  torn  from  the  bosom  of  her  mother,  and  was  left  alone 
in  the  world  in  utter  darkness — the  hope  of  her  life  extin- 
guished. 

"  Oh,  it  was  then  an  artifice."  she  said :  "  Caroline  Red- 
wood spoke  the  cruel  truth.  I  could  have  borne  any  thing  but 
this/'  she  continued,  with  an  impetuosity  that  startled  Westall 
— "  for  this  I  was  not  prepared  " 


REDWOOD.  419 

"  My  mother  !  must  I  never  vindicate — must  I  never  speak 
your  name  !;' 

Again  and  again  she  took  up  the  box,  examined  it  without 
and  within,  and  dropping  •  it,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  my  mother,  is 
this  all  ?" 

There  was  something  so  sacred  in  Ellen's  grief — some- 
thing so  touching  in  her  brief  expressions,  and  in  the  inde- 
scribable language  of  her  beautiful  countenance,  that  even  her 
lover,  whose  heart  vibrated  to  every  pulsation  of  hers,  was  com- 
pelled to  silence. 

Mechanically  he  took  up  the  miniature  case,  and  passing 
his  eye  over  it,  he  perceived  a  fragment  of  paper  adhering  to 
the  edge  of  it,  on  which  was  written,  in  a  delicate  female  hand, 

"  From  my  " the  remainder  of  the  sentence  had  been  torn 

off.  It  occurred  to  Westall  at  once  that  there  might  have 
been  some  foul  play,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  suggesting  his 
conjecture  to  Ellen,  when  they  were  both  startled  by  some  one 
tapping  at  the  door,  and  then  impatiently  opening  it. 

"  Pardon  my  intrusion,"  said  Miss  Campbell,  instinctively 
shrinking  back,  and  then  advancing,  "  my  errand  admits  of  no 
ceremony — Mr.  Westall,  you  must  go  immediately  to  Mr.  Red- 
wood, his  servant  has  been  anxiously  looking  for  you — he  says 
his  master  is  extremely  ill,  and  sends  to  entreat  you  not  to  de- 
lay a  moment  to  come  to  him." 

"  I  cannot  go  now,"  said  Westall,  insensible  for  the  moment 
to  any  suffering  but  Ellen's. 

"  You  must  go,"  said  Miss  Campbell,  with  an  imperative 
decision  which  indicated  that  she  had  more  reason  for  her  ur- 
gency than  her  words  expressed  ;  and  Westall  whispering  an 
entreaty  to  Ellen  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  see  her  again 
in  the  course  of  the  evening,  left  the  ladies  to  witness  a  scene 
of  more  remediless  grief  than  Ellen's.  Miss  Campbell  re- 


420  REDWOOD. 

mained  for  a  few  moments  an  embarrassed  spectator  of  Ellen's 
emotion  :  it  surprised  and  affected  her  the  more,  because  there 
was  in  Ellen's  ordinary  manner  such  an  instinctive  shrinking 
from  the  display,  or  the  exposure  of  her  feelings.  Grace  was 
not,  however,  of  a  temper  to  remain  for  any  length  of  time  a 
silent  or  inactive  observer  of  a  friend's  sufferings,  and  after  a 
few  moments  she  kindly  passed  her  arm  around  Ellen,  and 
said,  "  What  new  sorrow  has  assailed  you,  my  dear  Ellen  ?" 

Ellen  made  no  effort  to  reply,  and  after  a  little  pause  her 
friend  added,  "  Though  you  will  not  let  me  feel  with  you,  you 
must  permit  me  to  think  for  you,  Ellen — you  are  exposed  to 
intrusion  here.  Let  me  go  with  you  to  your  room — I  will 
stipulate  to  make  no  demands — no  inquiries — only  suffer  me 
to  remain  with  you  till  you  are  more  composed." 

Ellen  returned  the  pressure  of  her  friend's  hand  in  token 
of  her  acquiescence,  and  taking  up  once  more  her  box  with  a 
heart-bursting  sigh,  she  retreated  to  her  own  apartment  with 
Miss  Campbell ;  and  there,  after  having  recovered  from  the 
first  shock"  of  her  disappointment,  she  rewarded  the  delicate 
kindness  and  affectionate  interest  of  her  friend,  by  confiding 
to  her  the  few  particulars  of  her  long  cherished  hopes,  and  the 
final  utter  demolition  of  them. 

And  now  we  must  leave  her,  listening  to  such  consolation 
as  the  inventive  mind  of  her  friend  could  suggest,  while  we 
follow  Charles  Westall  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Redwood, 
whom  he  found  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  greatest  agitation, 
supported  by  his  servant. 

At  the  sight  of  "Westall  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  exclaiming, 
"  It  is  all  over,  Charles — she  has  gone — she  has  left  me  to  die 
here — gone  without  one  parting  word — misguided,  misera- 
ble girl !" 

The  recollection  of  his  meeting  with  Miss  Redwood  darted 


REDWOOD.  421 

across  Westall's  mind,  and  he  comprehended  at  once  Mr.  Red- 
wood's emotion,  and  the  language  he  held. 

"  Impossible,  sir  !"  he  said.  "  she  cannot  have  gone  with- 
out leaving  some  explanation — some  communication  for  you — 
go  Ralph,  and  find  Miss  Redwood's  servant,  and  bid  her  come 
here." 

"  Find  Lilly  !"  replied  the  man,  "  I  might  as  well  look  for 
the  wind  that  blew  yesterday,  Mr.  Westall ;  Lilly  has  gone 
faster  one  way  than  Miss  Caroline  has  the  other." 

"  Lilly  gone — and  not  with  her  mistress  ?  Do  you,  then, 
Ralph,  go  yourself  to  Miss  Redwood's  room,  and  look  on  her 
dressing-table  ;  she  may  possibly  have  left  a  letter  there  for 
her  father." 

"  And  of  what  avail,  Charles,  if  she  has  ?"  asked  Mr.  Red- 
wood— "  what  explanation  can  soften  the  terrible  truth  ?  but 
go,  Ralph— go." 

The  man  obeyed,  but  not  till  he  had  whispered  to  Westall, 
"  Keep  a  steady  eye  on  master  :  the  fever  betimes  mounts  to 
his  head,  and  then  he  is  raving." 

The  man's  apprehensions  seemed  quite  superfluous,  for  ex- 
cepting a  few  rational  exclamations,  such  as  "  Poor — poor  girl !" 
"  Oh  God,  thou  art  most  just !"  "  Charles,  this  last  blow  is 
too  much  for  me  !"  Mr.  Redwood  remained  silent  till  the 
servant  returned,  holding  in  his  hand  a  large  packet,  which  he 
said  '  might  be  for  master,  though  there  was  no  writing  on  the 
top  of  it.' 

Mr.  Redwood  snatched  it  from  him  and  broke  the  seal. 
As  he  unfolded  the  packet,  a  miniature  rolled  from  it  on  the 
floor,  and  Westall  picked  it  up.  The  image  of  the  only  relict 
in  Ellen's  box  was  still  vivid  in  Westall's  mind,  and  it  was  not 
strange  that  he  should  have  instinctively  compared  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  miniature  with  the  case  in  Ellen's  possession,  and 


422  REDWOOD. 

hardly  conscious  of  the  several  links  in  the  chain  of  his 
thoughts,  he  turned  the  miniature  to  examine  the  back  of  it 
The  upper  part  of  the  paper  that  had  been  pasted  over  it,  was 
torn  off,  and  on  that  remaining  was  traced  in  the  same  hand- 
writing that  was  on  Ellen's  fragment,  "  Beloved  husband  to 
his  faithful  Mary." 

A  faint  light  dawned  on  Westall's  mind,  when  his  atten 
tion  was  withdrawn  by  a  sudden  exclamation  from  Mr.  Red- 
wood. 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven,"  he  said,  "  what  does  this  mean 
how  did  Caroline  get  possession  of  these  papers  ?"  and  he  held 
up  the  certificate  of  his  marriage  with  Mary  Erwine,  and  the 
letter  directed  "  to  my  child."  "  Oh  Charles,"  he  added,  "  my 
head — my  head  ;"  and  he  pressed  both  hands  to  his  head  as  if 
his  thoughts  were  bursting  it.  "  Oh  memory — memory  ! — 
think  for  me — tell  me  what  these  mean  ?" 

"  Be  composed,  sir,  I  beseech  you,"  said  Westall,  in  the 
calmest  tone  he  could  assume :  then  opening  the  letter,  he 
glanced  his  eye  rapidly  over  it,  refolded  it  and  paused  ;  he 
could  not  speak :  his  first  impulse  was  to  fly  to  Ellen  and  tell 
her  that  Mr.  Redwood  was  her  father.  The  fearful  wildness 
of  Mr.  Redwood's  eye  still  fixed  inquiringly  on  him,  recalled 
him  to  the  present  necessity.  The  discovery  must  be  first 
made  to  him  ;  and  Westall  lost  every  other  consideration  in 
his  anxiety  to  make  the  communication  in  such  a  way  as  not 
to  destroy  the  equipoise  of  Mr.  Redwood's  mind,  which  seemed 
now  utterly  unable  to  sustain  any  additional  excitement. 

He  still  hesitated — it  appeared  that  Mr.  Redwood  under- 
stood his  apprehensions,  for,  grasping  his  hand,  he  said,  "  Speak 
quickly,  Charles,  while  I  can  comprehend  you." 

"  Be  patient,  sir — be  calm,  I  entreat  you,"  replied  Westall ; 
"  there  is  a  blessing — an  unspeakable  blessing  in  reserve  for 


EEDWOOD.  423 

you — this  letter  is  from  Mary  Erwine — from  your  wife  to  her 
child." 

"  To  her  child,  Charles  ! — you  perplex  me — you  disturb 
me  ;  she  had  no  child." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Redwood,"  replied  Westall,  almost  choking 
with  his  own  emotions,  "  her  child,  and  God  be  praised,  that 
child  lives — lives  to  love  and  to  bless  you." 

"  What  is  it  you  mean,  Westall  ?  explain  yourself,"  said 
Mr.  Redwood,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Westall  described,  as  concisely  as  possible,  the  condition  in 
which  he  had  found  the  box  left  by  Ellen's  mother ;  and  he 
read  aloud  some  passages  of  the  letter  which  placed,  beyond 
the  possibility  of  doubt,  the  fact  that  Mr.  Redwood's  wife  left 
a  child,  and  that  that  child  was  Ellen  Bruce. 

Westall  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  allude  to  the  mode  by 
which  these  testimonials  must  have  passed  into  Caroline's  pos- 
session. 

Mr.  Redwood  listened  in  breathless  silence,  till  Westall  had 
concluded.  Not  an  exclamation,  not  a  sound  escaped  from 
him,  save  the  audible  beating  of  his  heart.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments he  uncovered  his  face,  a  smile  passed  over  it  as  wild  and 
transient  as  the  flashings  of  lightning  on  the  dark  cloud. 
"  Send  for  Ellen,"  he  said,  the  effort  to  speak  slowly  and  calm- 
ly too  apparent  in  his  voice  :  "  do  you  stay  with  me,  Charles — 
I  must  not  be  left  alone  :  my  head  is  confused,"  he  added,  press- 
ing his  hand  to  his  head. 

"  Do  not  send  for  her  now,"  said  Westall,  give  this  night  to 
happy  anticipations.  To-morrow  you  will  be  better  prepared 
to  see  her." 

"  To-morrow !  now  or  never,  Charles ;  send  without  one 
moments  delay." 

Westall  took  out  his  pencil  to  write  a  note  to  Ellen.     Mr, 


424  REDWOOD. 

Redwood  stopped  him :  "  No,  my  dear  Charles,"  he  said,  "  go 
yourself — the  poor  child  will  need  some  preparation — she  will 
need  your  support.  I  shall  do  well  enough — I  am  better — 
much  better,  now." 

Westall  went  and  returned  with  Ellen,  in  a- space  of  time 
that  seemed  brief,  even  to  Mr.  Redwood.  Ellen  was  as  pale 
as  marble;  but  a  celestial  joy  shone  in  her  face — she  sprang 
towards  her  father :  he  rose,  stretched  out  his  arms  to  receive 
her,  and  folding  her  in  them,  they  wept  together. 

After  a  moment  he  started  back,  and  gazed  wildly  on  Ellen. 
"Ellen  Bruce  my  child?"  he  said — "is  it  not  all  a  dream? 
Speak  to  me,  Ellen — call  me  father — forgive  me  in  your  mo- 
ther's name." 

Ellen's  resolution  forsook  her:  alarmed,  trembling,  and 
weeping,  she  sunk  on  her  knees ;  her  father  shook  his  head, 
and  would  have  stooped  to  raise  her,  but,  utterly  exhausted 
by  the  conflict  of  his  feelings,  he  leaned  on  Westall's  shoulder. 
A  single  look  from  Westall  roused  all  Ellen's  energies ;  she 
sprang  to  her  father's  aid,  and  assisted  "Westall  to  lay  him  on 
the  bed. 

"  He  is  insensible  for  the  moment,"  whispered  Westall, 
"  bnt  he  will  soon  recover  his  consciousness,  and  then,  my  dear 
Ellen,  his  life — more  than  life,  his  reason,  will  depend  on  your 
fortitude  and  calmness." 

Westall  then  gave  into  Ellen's  hand  the  miniature,  the  cer- 
tificate, .and  the  letter — the  last  she  kissed  again  and  again — 
poured  over  it  a  shower  of  tears,  and  not  daring  then  to  trust 
herself  to  look  in  it,  she  placed  it  in  her  bosom. 

She  then  took  her  station  beside  her  father,  and  watched 
with  inexpressible  anxiety  every  variation  of  his  changeful 
countenance.  He  soon  recovered  sufficiently  to  speak,  but  his 
words  confirmed  their  worst  fears ;  for  they  were  the  ravings 


REDWOOD.  425 

of  delirium.  He  laughed  and  wept  alternately — he  called  on 
Ellen — on  her  mother — on  "Westall ;  but  most  frequently  and 
with  most  impetuosity,  he  demanded  Caroline.  He  seemed  to 
imagine  that  she  was  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  to  feel 
that  he  vainly  sought  to  rescue  her. 

So  much  did  his  madness  appear  to  be  stimulated  by  this 
fancy,  that  after  a  short  consultation,  Westall  and  Ellen  deter- 
mined that  an  effort  should  be  made  to  induce  Miss  Redwood 
to  return  immediately,  to  try  what  effect  her  presence  might 
produce  on  her  father.  Ralph  was  sent  to  ascertain,  if  possi- 
ble, the  destination  of  the  fugitives;  and  having  succeeded  in 
insinuating  himself  into  the  confidence  of  one  of  Fitzgerald's 
agents,  he  returned  in  a  short  time  with  the  information,  that 
they  might  probably  be  found  at  a  village  inn,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  the  springs 

Westall's  next  care  was  to  determine  to  whom  he  should 
apply  to  undertake  so  delicate  an  embassy,  and  while  he  was 
deliberating,  Ellen  said,  "  Go  yourself,  I  beseech  you.  Ralph 
and  I  can  do  -every  thing  here ;  and  you,  and  you  alone  can 
persuade  Miss  Redwood  to  return — to  return,"  she  added,  with 
a  faltering  voice,  "  before  it  is  too  late." 

"  Alas  !  my  dear  Ellen,"  replied  Westall,  glancing  his  eye 
at  Mr.  Redwood,  who,  after  a  paroxysm  of  raving  had  sunk  on 
his  pillow,  pale  and  exhausted,  "it  is,  I  fear,  already  too  late." 

"  Oh.  do  not  say  so — it  may  not  be" — said  Ellen,  and  she 
bent  over  her  father  with  a  look  of  great  anxiety  ;  then  turning 
suddenly  to  Westall,  "  we  may  at  least,"  she  said,  "  save  Caro- 
line from  the  disgrace  that  must  fall  on  her.  if  it  is  known  that 
she  has  deserted  her  father  in  this  extremity." 

"  Generous  being  !"  exclaimed  Westall,  "you  shall  be  obey- 
ed ;  but  I  cannot  leave  you  here  alone." 

"  Ask  Grace  Campbell,  then,  to  come  to  me — but  no,"  she 


426  REDWOOD. 

added,  looking  towards  the  bed  and  observing  that  her  father 
was  sinking  to  sleep,  "  perfect  quiet  will  be  best — now  go,  and 
God  speed  you." 

Westall  departed,  admiring  with  enthusiasm  the  self-com- 
mand of  Ellen,  and  the  generosity  with  which  she  could  forego 
at  this  crisis  of  her  life  the  indulgence  of  her  sensibilities,  to 
consider  how  she  might  preserve  the  honor  of  one  who  had  so 
relentlessly  inflicted  suffering  on  her. 

The  moment  Westall  left  her,  Ellen  sent  the  servant  into 
an  adjoining  room,  that  she  might  avoid  the  risk  of  breaking 
her  father's  slumbers  by  the  slightest  noise.  Hour  after  hour 
she  sat  on  his  bedside,  gently  chafing  his  icy  hands,  wiping  the 
cold  dew  from  his  forehead,  and  noting  every  breath  he  strug- 
gled to  inhale,  and  every  convulsive  motion  of  his  distorted 
features.  At  length  his  feverishness  abated — he  ceased  to  be 
restless — the  firm  grasp  of  his  hand  relaxed — a  gentle  warmth 
was  diffused  throughout  his  system,  and  his  respiration  became 
quiet  as  an  infant's. 

Ellen  raised  her  hands  and  eyes  in  silent  and  devout 
thankfulness,  and  withdrawing  from  the  bed,  she  took  from  her 
bosom  her  mother's  letter,  and  opened  it  with  a  mingled  feel- 
ing of  awe,  of  apprehension,  and  of  tenderness. 

Could  it  be  otherwise  ?  it  was  the  record  of  the  wrongs  of 
her  departed  mother  first  to  be  learned  in  the  presence  of  her 
dying  father.  Repeatedly  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  letter,  but 
they  were  so  dimmed  with  her  tears,  that  she  could  not  dis- 
tinguish one  word  from  another.  At  last  an  intense  interest 
in  her  mother's  fate  subdued  every  other  feeling,  and  she  suc- 
ceeded in  reading  the  letter  which  will  be  found  in  the  next 
chapter. 


REDWOOD.  427 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  Methinks  if  ye  would  know 
How  visitations  of  calamity 
Affect  the  pious  soul,  'tis  shown  ye  there  !' 

SOUTHET. 

"  MY  CHILE — If  the  injunction  is  obeyed  with  which  I  shall 
consign  to  my  friend  the  box  that  is  to  contain  this  letter,  long 
before  you  behold  it  the  hand  that  now  traces  these  lines  will 
have  mouldered  to  dust — the  eye  that  now,  as  you  lie  on  my 
bosom,  pours  its  tears  like  rain  upon  your  sweet  face,  shall 
weep  no  more  for  ever ;  and  the  heart  that  now  throbs  with 
hopes  and  fears  for  you,  my  love,  shall  have  ceased  to  beat 
with  mortal  anxieties  and  mortal  hopes. 

"  Sweet  innocent — gift  of  God — image  of  immaculate  pu- 
rity— thy  mother  would  preserve  thce,  an  unsullied  treasure 
for  the  riches  of  Christ:s  kingdom — a  stainless  flower  for  the 
paradise  of  God :  thy  mother  would  shelter  thee  so  that  the 
winds  of  heaven  should  not  breathe  unkindly  on  thee.  But 
this  cannot  be.  Thou  must  be  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  hu- 
man life,  solicited  by  its  temptations,  and  pierced  by  its  sor- 
rows— and  thy  mother,  thy  natural  guard  and  shield,  must  be 

taken  from  thee.     Thy  mother  can  do  nothing  for  thee 

Said  I  nothing  ! — God  forgive  me.     I  can  do — I  have  done 


428       *  REDWOOD. 

all  things — I  have  resigned  you  to  Him  whose  protection  is 
safety — whose  favor  is  life.  I  have  believed  his  promises — I 
have  accepted  his  offered  mercy  ;  and  in  faith,  nothing  waver- 
ing, I  have  committed  my  orphan  child  to  Him.  And  now. 
though  thy  path  should  be  laid  through  the  waters,  they  shall 
not  overwhelm  thee,  and  through  the  fire,  it  shall  not  kindle 
upon  thee. 

"  My  child,  I  am  now  to  account  to  you  for  a  resolution, 
which,  should  it  please  God  to  preserve  your  life,  must  ma- 
terially affect  your  future  destiny. 

"  I  beseech  you  to  permit  no  unkind  thoughts  of  your 
mother  to  enter  your  gentle  bosom.  Remember  that  if  I  de- 
prive you  of  your  rights,  degrade  you  from  the  station  in 
which  you  were  born,  and  remove  you  from  honors  and  riches, 
it  is  that  you  may  become  '  an  heir  of  the  kingdom  ;'  remem- 
ber my  motive — read  the  brief  history  and  unhappy  fate  of 
your  mother,  and  you  will  not — must  not  blame  her. 

"  My  father's  name  was  Philip  Erwine.  He  was  a  Scotch- 
man by  birth,  the  only  son  of  a  rich  and  respectable  family. 
He  was  educated  for  the  church,  and  preparing  to  enter  life 
with  the  most  happy  prospects,  when  they  were  for  ever  cloud- 
ed by  a  clandestine  marriage,  which  the  world  deemed  impru- 
dent, and  his  father  unpardonable,  with  a  portionless,  obscure 
girl,  whose  maiden  name,  Ellen  Bruce,  I  have  given  to  you. 
My  grandfather  discarded  his  son  from  his  home  and  his  affec- 
tions, and  only  cherished  the  remembrance  of  this  one  act  of 
disobedience.  Oh  my  child,  the  pride  of  this  world  is  cruel 
tyranny. 

"My  father  subsisted  for  some  months  on  scanty  remittances 
secretly  made  him  by  his  mother ;  but  she  died  soon  after. 
My  grandfather  married  again — had  more  children — and  my 
father,  thus  cut  off  from  all  hope  of  a  reconciliation,  emigrated 


REDWOOD.  429 

to  America.  My  parents  were  strangers  in  a  strange  land, 
and  obliged  to  meet  the  evils  which  the  poor  and  friendless 
must  always  encounter.  My  father,  nursed  in  the  lap  of  in- 
dulgence, sunk  under  privation,  and  became  utterly  spiritless 
and  dejected.  My  noble  mother,  with  an  '  inborn  royalty  of 
mind'  that  makes  the  trappings  of  earthly  distinctions  seem 
poor  indeed,  endured  all  her  trials  without  a  murmuring  word, 
or  even  look.  She  made  incredible  exertions  for  the  support 
of  her  family,  and  maintained  an  outward  cheerfulness,  while 
her  heart  was  sinking  with  the  consciousness  of  having  been 
the  cause  of  my  father's  calamities.  Her  health  and  life  were 
the  sacrifice.  I  have  since  heard  my  father  confess  that  when 
he  laid  her  in  the  grave,  he  was  first  roused  to  a  sense  of  my 
wants  and  his  duties. 

"  He  left  New- York,  the  scene  of  his  sufferings,  and  fixed 
his  residence  in  a  village  on  Long  Island  Sound.  There  he 
obtained  a  comfortable  living  by  teaching  the  children  of  some 
gentlemen  whose  summer  residences  were  in  the  vicinage. 
Whenever  he  was  compelled  to  be  absent  from  me,  I  was  left 
in  the  care — the  vigilant,  maternal  care,  of  the  kindest-hearted 
woman  in  the  world,  who  afterwards  married  a  Mr.  Allen,  and 
went  to  resi  ie  in  Massachusetts.  I  was  the  constant  compan- 
ion of  my  fatner's  solitude — the  consolation,  he  called  me,  of 
his  exile.  All  the  treasure  of  his  heart  was  lavished  on  me  : 
I  was  the  refuge  of  his  affections,  and  nurtured  with  a  thought- 
ful tenderness  that  quite  disqualified  me  for  the  indifference  of 
a  selfish  world — quite  unfitted  me  for  the  rude  storm  that  has 
since  assailed  me,  and  before  which  I  have  fallen. 

"  My  father  was  a  good  man :  adversity  had  made  him  an 
humble  Christian  :  still  he  possessed  the  pride  natural  to  the 
human  heart,  and  I,  his  only  child,  was  the  object  of  all  that 
pride.  Yes,  my  love,  he  was  proud  of  thy  mother's  beauty — 


430  REDWOOD. 

that  fatal  beauty  that  has  been  the  source  of  all  my  griefs — 
that  beauty  which  is  now  perishing  by  disease,  and  soon  will 
be  quite  effaced  by  death.  Thank  God.  I  was  never  proud  of 
it :  in  my  simplicity,  I  was  ignorant  of  its  value  and  its  danger. 

"  My  father  would  sometimes  bewail  for  me  the  loss  of 
distinctions,  which  were  no  loss  to  me,  for  I  had  never  known 
them ;  and  in  the  joyous  independence  of  childhood,  I  could 
frolic  away  his  sadness,  and  prove  to  him,  by  the  contentment 
of  my  spirit,  the  vanity  of  his  desires. 

"  I  had  just  attained  my  fourteenth  year  when  I  lost  my 
father.  I  pass  over  that  period  of  my  life.  My  support — my 
defence  was  taken  from  me — the  world  was  all  before  me,  and 
I  would  gladly  have  turned  back  and  laid  me  in  my  father's 
grave.  Thank  heaven,  my  child,  there  is  a  misery  you  cannot 
feel! 

"  My  father  did  not  leave  me  without  a  provision.  Tender 
as  the  parent  bird  that  plucks  the  down  from  its  own  breast  to 
feather  the  nest  for  its  young,  he  had  practised  the  severest 
economy — deprived  himself  of  every,  the  least  indulgence,  that 
he  might  reserve  his  small  earnings  for  my  sake. 

{:  Mrs.  Allen,  to  whose  guardianship  my  father  had  left 
me,  sent  me  to  a  boarding-school  to  acquire  some  slight  accom- 
plishments, which  she  hoped,  with  the  solid  instruction  I  had 
already  received,  would  qualify  me  for  a  teacher,  and  thus  se- 
cure to  me  the  means  of  permanent  independence.  I  had 
been  one  year  at  school — my  education  was  finished,  or  rathei 
my  small  means  were  expended,  when  a  Mrs.  Westall  came 
with  her  husband  from  Virginia  to  visit  her  northern  friends. 
Though  some  years  older  than  I,  we  had  been  playmates  in 
our  childhood.  She  remembered  with  kindness  our  youthful 
intimacy.  My  youth  and  loneliness  interested  her  husband's 
benevolent  heart :  he  invited  me  to  accompany  his  wife  to  the 


REDWOOD.  43 1 

south,  and  promised,  if  I  became  dissatisfied  with  my  home  in 
his  family,  to  obtain  for  me  among  his  rich  neighbors  an  agree- 
able situation  as  a  teacher. 

"  Now,  my  child,  your  mother  claims  vour  pity,  your  sym- 
pathy, your  forgiveness,  while  you  read  the  record  of  an  indis- 
cretion that  casts  her  into  an  early  grave,  and  condemns  you 
to  orphanage. 

"  The  day  after  our  arrival  at  Mr.  Westall's  plantation,  I 
had  stolen  just  at  sunset  into  the  garden  with  my  friend's  little 
boy,  Charles  Westall — the  thought  of  this  child  throws  a  bright 
gleam  across  the  track  of  memory,  and  I  pause  to  dwell  on  it 
as  the  traveller  in  a  desert  lingers  to  pluck  a  sweet  and  soli- 
tary flower.  Scarcely  less  a  child  than  himself,  I  was  the 
favorite  companion  of  his  sports.  He  had  chased  me  through 
the  walks,  and  having  caught  me,  he  made  me  kneel  on  a  turfed 
bank,  that  he  might,  as  he  said,  crown  me  his  queen.  He 
pulled  the  comb  from  my  hair,  and  was  weaving  knots  of  honey- 
suckles and  rose-buds  among  my  curls,  when  we  were  start- 
led by  the  rustling  of  the  branches  of  some  high  shrubs  behind 
which  we  had  retreated.  We  both  looked  up  and  perceived  a 
gentleman,  a  stranger,  gazing  intently  on  us. 

"  Little  Charles  sportively  drew  the  branches  around  me, 
saying.  '  this  is  my  Mary,  my  que%n — and  nobody  shall  look 
on  her  till  she  is  crowned.' 

"  '  Such  a  nymph,'  said  the  stranger,  '  should  have  a  guar- 
dian angel  and  a  sylvan  veil.' 

"  These  were  the  first  words  I  ever  heard  from  your 
father  ;  this  was  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him,  and  from  this 
moment  he  was  never  absent  from  my  thoughts :  wherever  I 
was.  in  society  or  in  solitude,  Henry  Redwood's  voice  rung  in 
my  ears  ;  his  image  was  for  ever  before  me.  Look,  my  child, 
at  the  picture  which  you  will  find  with  this  letter  :  look  on 


432  REDWOOD. 

those  eyes — the  lofty  brow — the  mouth — and  then  imagine 
•what  this  face  must  have  been  when  kindled  with  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  living  spirit. 

"  I  was  young  and  ignorant — artless  and  unsuspicious — 
constantly  exposed  to  the  charms  of  his  genius  and  accomplish- 
ments— to  the  fascinations  of  his  tenderness — and  if  I  had 
ever  doubted  (which  I  did  not)  that  he  was  all  that  he  seemed, 
his  being  the  friend  of  Mr.  Westall  would  have  quieted  my 
fears. 

"  Here  I  have  paused  to  look  over  what  I  have  written,  and 
I  blush  at  my  own  inconsistency.  I  blame  myself,  and  yet  I 
seek  a  justification  in  my  child's  eyes  ;  this  is  natural,  for,  alas. 
the  heart  is  deceitful.  But  I  will  do  so  no  more— I  will  tell 
the  simple  truth,  and  trust  to  my  child's  heart  to  plead  for  her 
mother. 

"Not  many  months  elapsed  before  I  married  Mr.  Red- 
wood clandestinely,  and  without  much  scruple  or  reluctance. 
Every  sentiment  of  duty  and  propriety  was  lost  in  the  fervor 
of  a  first  attachment,  and  in  the  fearless  confidence  which 
youth  and  love  inspired. 

"  He  urged  the  necessity  of  secrecy,  and  assigned  many 
reasons  for  it.  I  received  them  implicitly,  or  scarcely  listened 
to  them,  for  I  had  cast  the  care  of  my  honor  and  happiness 
upon  him,  and  my  affection  was  unclouded  by  a  single  doubt 

or  anxiety. 

«  Soon  after  our  marriage  Mr.  Westall  died  suddenly— the 
kindness  of  Mrs.  Westall  detained  me  with  her  for  some  time : 
I  then  left  her  to  take  charge  of  the  children  of  a  Mr.  Emlyn. 
whose  plantation  adjoined  that  of  my  husband's  father.  Our 
opportunities  of  meeting,  though  somewhat  diminished  by  my 
residence  with  strangers,  were  still  frequent,  but  they  exposed 
me  to  suspicions  and  remarks  that  made  me  miserable. 


REDWOOD.  433 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  my  husband  I  confessed  my  anxieties 
to  him.  I  even  hinted  my  expectation  of  your  existence  ;  that 
I  believe  he  did  not  understand,  and  I  had  not  courage  to  ex- 
plain myself.  I  observed  that  he  felt  unusual  emotion  at  part- 
ing with  me,  and  the  next  morning  I  received  the  information 
that  he  had  gone  on  a  tour  of  pleasure  to  Europe,  to  be  absent 
one  or  two  years.  With  this  intelligence,  which  almost  de- 
prived me  of  my  senses,  your  father  sent  me,  by  mistake,  some 
letters  that  had  passed  between  him  .and  one  of  his  friends, 
from  which  I  discovered,  that  while  he  felt  some  tenderness  for 
me,  he  regretted  that  he  had  encumbered  himself  with  an  insu- 
perable obstacle  to  his  advancement  in  the  world. 

"  He  was  the  world  to  me — and  I  found  myself  worse  than 
insignificant  to  him.  Every  fibre  of  my  affections  was  clasped 
around  him,  and  I  was  thus  in  a  moment  rudely  torn  away : 
poverty  I  had  never  dreaded — calamity  in  any  other  shape  I 
could  have  borne — but  I  merited  the  chastisement.  I  also 
discovered  from  these  fatal  letters  that  your  father  was  an  un- 
believer ;  not  merely  that  he  rejected  the  truths  of  revelation, 
but  that  he  could  even  treat  a  future  retribution  and  the  hope 
of  immortality  as  childish  illusions. 

"  Oh,  how  then  in  the  bitterness  of  my  sorrow  and  disap- 
pointment did  I  blame  myself  that  r  had  so  long  forgotten  my 
Christian  duty,  and  had  looked  upon  my  husband's  indifference 
to  religion  (for  his  unbelief  I  never  suspected)  as  what  was  to 
be  expected  in  a  young  man.  My  child,  I  deserved  my  fate — 
I  was  born  of  a  Christian  mother,  watched  and  guided  by  a 
Christian  father — religious  principles  were  deeply  rooted  in 
my  heart ;  and  yet  for  a  wliile  every  thought  of  duty  was  sus- 
pended— every  affection  was  melted  into  one  deep,  absorbing 
passion — my  whole  existence  was  resolved  into  one  sensation — 
alas,  this  it  is  to  love  ! 
19 


434  REDWOOD. 

-  As  soon  as  I  became  sufficiently  tranquil  to  think  of  the 
future,  I  took  a  resolution  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  without  anj 
very  definite  purpose  but  to  hide  myself  from  every  one  who 
had  ever  seen  me,  and  to  escape  from  a  scene  where  every  ob- 
ject renewed  my  anguish,  and  where  I  was  no  longer  capable 
of  performing  the  duties  I  had  undertaken. 

"  Oh  that  terrible  journey  ! — I  was  alone  and  unprotected, 
and  so  young  and  so  wretched,  that  every  body  noticed  me,  and 
I  had  such  mortifications  and  trials  to  endure  !  But  I  will 
not  make  your  heart  bleed  by  relating  them — why  should  I  ? 
they  are  past  for  ever. 

"  The  journey  was  fatiguing  to  me — my  sorrows  preyed  on 
my  health,  and  before  I  reached  Philadelphia,  I  was  seized 
with  a  nervous  fever,  which  obliged  me  to  remain  at  a  German 
settlement.  I  recovered  partially  from  it,  but  it  left  my  mind 
in  a  state  of  alternate  apathy  and  insensibility,  which  rendered 
removal  impossible.  I  hired  a  lodging  in  a  very  poor  German 
family,  where  I  awaited  my  confinement.  I  was  careless  about 
my  life,  and  took  no  thought  for  my  health,  which  ordinary 
attention  might  perhaps  have  restored,  but  long  fastings  and 
sleepless  nights,  when  my  weary  spirit  knew  no  rest,  have 
wasted  my  strength  ;  and  now  I  would  give  worlds  for  a  little 
space  of  that  life  which  my  wilful  neglect  and  my  guilty  des- 
pair have  destroyed. 

"  Your  birth  awakened  me  to  a  new  existence — breathed  a 
new  spirit  into  me — created  ties  to  life  ;  and  from  the  first  mo- 
ment I  folded  you  to  my  bosom,  I  would  have  accepted  exist- 
ence on  any  terms ;  no  condition,  however  deserted  and 
neglected,  has  now  any  terrors  for  me.  All  other  feelings  an(M| 
desires  are  extinguished  in  the  pure  flame  of  maternal  love, 
and  for  you,  my  child,  alone  I  would  live. 

"  But  it  cannot  be — a  terrible  cough  racks  my  frame — the 


REDWOOD.  435 

fires  of  consumption  are  kindled  on  my  cheek,  and  every  day 
I  see  and  feel  the  steady  and  sure  approach  of  death — I  weep 
over  you,  and  the  kind  creatures  that  are  about  me  weep  to 
see  me,  and  the  long  silent  watches  of  the  night  I  pass  in  pray- 
ing for  you. 

"  In  my  still  solitude,  when  thou  wast  sleeping  all  uncon- 
scious on  my  bosom,  I  have  heard  a  voice  saying  unto  me, 
'  leave  thy  child  with  me.'  I  have  obeyed  the  voice — I  have 
resigned  you  to  the  protection  of  that  good  Being,  who  in  ten- 
der compassion  has  declared  himself  the  orphan's  God. 

"  And  now  it  was  deeply  impressed  on  my  mind  that  I 
ought  to  do  something  to  preserve  my  lamb  from  the  danger 
of  wandering  from  the  fold  of  the  good  Shepherd.  Your  father, 
by  deserting  me,  has  forfeited  his  right  to  you.  When  I  am 
no  longer  in  the  way  of  his  worldly  prospects,  his  heart  may 
be  touched  with  compunction  for  the  wrong  he  has  done  me  ; 
you  might  awaken  a  parent's  feelings,  and  he  might  invest  you 
with  your  rights. 

"  All  this  might  be — and  what  would  you  gain  ?  the  un- 
willing sufferance — the  scanty  favor,  it  may  be,  of  a  proud  and 
selfish  family ;  for  such,  from  the  confession  of  your  father, 
are  his  connections.  But  for  this  shall  I  expose  you  to  the 
danger,  the  almost  inevitable  certainty,  of  alienation  from  the 
Christian  hope  ? 

"  It  must  not  be — I  behold  something  in  your  innocent 
face — the  emblem  of  heaven — I  feel  something  in  the  soft 
touch  of  your  little  hand  that  appeals  to  your  mother's  heart  to 
direct  your  course  in  the  path  that  leads  to  the  mansions  in 
our  Father's  house. 

"I  have  at  last  taken  an  immovable  resolution  to  keep 
your  existence  a  secret  from  your  father,  and  to  preserve  from 
you,  and  from  every  one,  the  knowledge  of  my  connection  with 


436  REDWOOD. 

him  till  you  are  of  an  age  when  you  will  be  secure  from  his 
influence — when  your  character  will  be  formed  by  wise  and 
Christian  care. 

'•  You  must  not,  my  child,  think  hardly  of  me  for  keeping 
you  so  long  in  ignorance  of  your  parentage — I  dare  not  leave 
any  thing  to  hazard — the  very  young  do  not  know  how  to 
choose  good  from  evil,  and  Heaven  preserve  you  from  the  hard 
school  of  experience  in  which  your  poor  mother  has  been 
taught !" 

Here  there  occurred  a  blank  in  the  letter  ;  and  the  re- 
mainder scarcely  legible  was  as  follows  • 

"  Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  been  too  weak  to  use  my 
pen.  In  the  meantime  my  kind,  generous,  best  friend,  Mrs. 
Allen,  has  complied  with  a  request  I  sent  her,  and  come  to  me 
from  her  distant  home.  Ah,  how  has  she  grieved  to  find  me 
so  sick,  and  in  this  mean  lodging ;  but  I  have  not  suffered 
from  its  poverty,  and  I  chose  it  that  I  might  not  diminish  the 
pittance  I  have  saved  for  you — the  remnant  of  the  liberal 
supply  my  husband  sent  me  at  his  departure. 

"  I  have  found  in  this  humble  dwelling  all  the  kindness  I 
needed,  and  I  have  enjoyed  an  inward  peace  that  springs  from 
the  reflection  that  I  have  for  you,  my  child,  sacrificed  earth  to 
heaven. 

"  Mrs.  Allen  remonstrates  with  me.  I  see  that  she  thinks 
I  have  been  so  long  lonely  and  sorrowful  that  my  mind  is  not 
quite  right,  but  she  is  mistaken — I  am  sure  she  is  mistaken. 
She  tells  me  that  I  may  involve  you  in  many  embarrassments 
— she  suggests  a  thousand  difficulties  that  may  occur,  but  I 
cannot  consider  them  now — I  cannot  go  back  to  the  world — 
my  thoughts  are  all  the  other  way. 

"  She  does  not  oppose  me  any  longer,  but  has  most  sol- 


REDWOOD.  437 

emnly  promised  to  fulfil  my  wishes,  though  she  still  calls  them 
strange  and  singular.  She  says  I  am  young — I  am  young  in 
years,  but  in  the  last  twelve  months  I  have  grown  very  old. 
Oh,  to  the  wretched,  hours  are  years,  and  weeks  are  ages  ! 

"  She  begs  me  to  be  governed  by  her  discretion,  but  I 
cannot. 

"  She  knows  not — no  one  knows— how  to  look  upon  the 
troubled  and  vanishing  dream  of  this  life,  till  the  light  of 
another  falls  upon  it.  No  one  knows  how  mean  every  thing 
that  is  transient  and  perishable  appears  to  me — how  insignifi- 
cant the  joys,  nay  even  the  sufferings  that  are  past,  as  I  stand 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  that  bright  world  of  innocence  and 
safety,  where  I  hope  to  appear  with  the  child  God  has  given  me. 

"  My  last  prayer  will  be  for  you,  my  child — and  for  your 
father — God  have  mercy  on  him  !" 

Every  word  of  this  letter  which  may  appear  very  long  and 
tedious  to  an  indifferent  reader,  sunk  deep  into  Ellen's  heart. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  book  of  Providence  was  unsealed 
and  open  before  her,  and  as  the  bright  light  fell  on  the  path  by 
which  she  had  been  led  to  the  present  period  of  her  existence, 
'  Oh  my  mother  !'  she  exclaimed,  '  hast  thou  not  been  with 
me  a  guardian  spirit,  to  lead  me  by  the  way  which  was  dis- 
closed to  thy  prophetic  eye  ?' 

Her  emotions  were  deep  and  indescribable — stronger  than 
any  other  were  gratitude  to  her  mother,  and  admiration  of  the 
courage  and  single-heartedness  with  which  she  had  renounced 
the  world  for  her. 

'  I  might,'  she  thought,  '  like  Caroline,  have  been  the  slave 
of  the  world — the  victim  of  folly :  I  might  have  followed  my 
poor  father  through  the  dark  and  dreary  passages  of  unbelief, 
but  for  that  good  part  which  my  sainted  mother  chose  for  me.' 


438  REDWOOD. 

A  thousand  reflections  crowded  on  her  mind :  but  gratitude 
for  the  past — her  own  bright  hopes  of  the  future — every  other 
feeling  was  soon  lost  in  an  extreme  solicitude  for  her  father's 
recovery. 

She  knelt  by  his  bedside But  there  are  feelings  too 

sacred  to  be  drawn  from  their  silent  sanctuary — there  are  ser- 
vices too  hallowed  to  be  described.  They  are  seen  in  secret, 
and  rewarded,  as  Ellen's  were,  openly. 

We  must  now  recur  to  Caroline,  who,  on  re-entering  her 
own  room,  was  startled  by  the  spectacle  of  her  dressing-case — 
the  lid  open,  and  packet  and  purse  gone.  She  seized  the 
dressing-case,  emptied  out  every  article  it  contained,  in  the 
vain  hope  that  in  some  corner  the  treasure  might  lurk,  but 
fruitless  was  the  search,  and  she  dropped  it  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  Oh."  she  said,  "  had  the  wretch  taken  any  thing  else — 
my  money — my  trinkets — any  thing  but  this — the  loss  of  this 
may  ruin  me." 

While  she  was  thus  bewailing  her  calamity,  she  heard  a 
gentle  tap  at  the  door,  and  on  opening  it  Ellen  appeared. 
Caroline  started  back,  and  said  haughtily,  "  Has  Westall  sent 
you,  to  me,  Miss  Bruce  ? — I  could  have  dispensed  with  this 
favor." 

"No,  Miss  Redwood,"  replied  Ellen,  advancing  into  the 
room  with  an  air  of  dignity  and  gentleness,  "  I  have  come 
here  on  my  own  errand — Caroline,  your" — here  for  the  first 
time  there  was  a  slight  tremulousness  in  her  voice,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause,  she  added,  "  our  father" — 

"  You  have  it  then  ?"  shrieked  Caroline. 

'•  Yes."  replied  Ellen,  "  I  have  it — Providence  has  restored 
to  me  my  right ;  but  you,  Caroline,  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me 
—let  the  past  be  for  ever  forgotten.  Our  father.  Mr.  Westall, 


REDWOOD.  439 

and  myself,  are  all  that  know  where  these  precious  documents 
were  found:  and  is  not  the  secret  safe  with  us?  We  are  the 
persons  must  concerned  for  your  honor — are  we  not?  Forget 
the  past  then,  and  regard  me  without  fear  or  distrust." 

Caroline  was  touched  with  Ellen's  generosity,  and  deeply 
mortified,  for  the  moment  at  least,  at  the  wrong  she  had  done 
her. 

':  I  never  meant."  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could  command 
her  voice  sufficiently  to  put  the  words  together,  though  in  the 
most  embarrassed  and  stammering  manner,  "  I  never  meant, 
Ellen,  to  keep  those  papers  from  you  for  ever.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve I  should  have  kept  them  so  long,  but  I  thought  that  you 
could  not  suffer  from  the  loss  of  that  which  you  were  ignorant 
you  possessed ;  and  I  knew  that  when  papa  discovered  you 
were  his  child,  he  would  care  nothing  for  me.  It  was  uncer 
tain,  you  know,  for  a  long  time,  which  of  us  "Westall  preferred, 
and  though  I  have  since  felt  a  perfect  indifference  for  him,  I 
did  then  wish — at  least  I  should  not  have  disliked  his  ad- 
dresses, and  I  was  sure  if  papa  knew  all,  he  would  throw  his 
influence  into  your  scale,  and  then  Charles  Westall  would  have 
no  reason  for  preferring  me,  as,  your  rights  acknowledged, 
your  fortune  would  be  equal  to  mine,  and  that  I  could  not 
but  think  very  unfair,  as  nearly  all  papa's  fortune  came  from 
my  mother,  and  yours,  you  know,  was  quite  penniless." 

Self-justification  is  the  natural  tribute,  even  in  tlie  most 
hopeless  circumstances,  to  the  law  of  rectitude  written  on  the 
heart.  Lame  and  impotent  as  was  Caroline's  attempt  to  jus- 
tify herself,  Ellen  replied  without  appearing  to  notice  any  ot 
its  inconsistencies. 

"  You  have  not,"  she  said,  "  rightly  judged  me,  Caroline. 
If  you  could  have  imagined  the  joy — the  gratitude  I  have  felt 
this  evening,  you  would  not.  I  am  sure  you  would  not,  have  de- 


440  REDWOOD. 

ferred  my  happiness.  My  mother's  name  is  vindicated — sane- 
tified  my  faith  has  always  held  it ;  but  it  is  now  beyond  the 
reach  of  suspicion  or  imputation.  You  know  not,  Caroline- 
how  should  you  know  ? — the  dreadful  solitude  of  living  with- 
out a  natural  tie  to  your  fellow-creatures.  You  know  not  the 
exquisite  sensations  I  have  felt  this  night,  even  amidst  afflict- 
ing fears,  beside  myfatJier's  bed." 

Ellen's  emotion  checked  her  utterance  for  a  moment :  she 
then  added,  "  Caroline,  it  is  best  that  we  should  understand  one 
another  perfectly.  Your  mother's  fortune  is  as  entirely  yours 
as  if  I  had  never  had  an  existence.  I  have  not  the  right,  and, 
certainly,  I  have  not  the  wish  to  interfere  with  your  inheritance 
in  the  smallest  degree.  All  that  I  covet,  is  an  equal  share  of 
our  father's  affections ;  your  confidence  I  hope  to  win  ;  your 
sisterly  affection  I  will  try  to  deserve." 

After  a  short  pause  Ellen  added  in  conclusion,  « There  is 
one  arrangement,  Caroline,  which,  if  I  insist  on  'controlling, 
you  must  not  think  I  too  soon  assume  the  rights  of  an  elder 
sister.  It  is  my  wish  that  our  relationship  should  remain  a 
secret  for  the  present." 

Caroline  looked  astonished.  Ellen,  without  seeming  to  no- 
tice her  surprise,  proceeded  :  "  In  the  present  state  of  my  feel- 
ings, I  wish  particularly  to  avoid  observation  and  remark. 
The  avowal  of  my  engagement  with  Mr.  Westall,  and  your 
friendship,  will  give  me  a  right  to  share  with  you  the  care  of 
our  father.  Should  he  not  recover,  the  secret  shall  never  be 
divulged — it  is  enough  that  I  know  it— for  worlds  I  would  not 
cast  a  shadow  over  his  fair  name." 

In  assigning  her  motives,  Ellen  had  avoided  any  reference 
to  what  she  knew  must  be  Caroline's  wishes  on  the  subject. 
Caroline  felt  this  delicacy  to  her  heart's  core  ;  she  was  subdued 
by  the  pure  goodness  of  Ellen  ;  she  felt  the  influence  of  the 


REDWOOD.  44 

Tioly  principle  that  governed  her  sister's  mind,  and  penetrated 
with  a  poignant  contrition  like  that  which  made  the  Egyptian 
king  exclaim,  '  Truly,  I  have  sinned  against  the  Lord  your 
God  and  against  you  ;'  she  sunk  on  her  knees — the  pride  and 
haughtiness  of  her  soul  were  vanquished — she  stretched  out 
her  arms  with  an  expression  of  contrition,  remorse,  prayer. 
Ellen  raised  her  and  clasped  her  arms  around  her.  It  may 
not  be  too  much  to  say,  that  the  beautiful  sisters  were  a  «pec- 
tacle  at  which  Heaven  might  rejoice  ;  for  they  seemed  to  em- 
body penitence  and  perfect  love. 

"  Oh,  Ellen  !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  will  not,  after  all,  triumph  over 
me  ?  Can  you  forgive  my  slights — my  insults  ?  Can  you  for- 
get the  wrong  I  have  done  you  ?" 

"  All  is  forgiven — all  shall  be  forgotten,"  replied  Ellen ; 
"  think  no  more  of  it,  Caroline.  Let  us  now  think  of  nothing 
but  how  we  shall  best  minister  to  our  father's  restoration  ;  for 
this  we  will  unite  our  hearts  and  efforts.  Let  us  go  together 
to  his  room." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go — I  will  do  every  thing  you  ask  of  me, 
Ellen."  said  Caroline  ;  "  but  first  tell  me.  for  I  never  can  speak 
on  the  subject  again,  first  tell  me  where  those  papers  were 
found.  Did  Lilly  give  them  to  you  ?" 

Ellen  could  not  satisfy  Caroline's  curiosity  to  know  the  par- 
ticulars of  her  servant's  unfaithfulness.  She  could  only  inform 
her  that  the  packet  had  been  found  in  her  apartment. 

The  truth  was,  that  Lilly,  during  her  northern  summer, 
had  formed  too  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  '  the  moun- 
tain nymph,  sweet  liberty,'  and  had  conceived  too  strong 
a  friendship  for  her  to  be  willing  ever  again  to  leave  her  do- 
minions. 

She  had;  too.  in  imitation  of  her  mistress,  been  carrying  on 
19* 


442  REDWOOD. 

a  snug  love  affair  of  her  own  with  the  servant  of  a  West  India 
planter,  then  at  Lebanon.  Miss  Redwood's  clandestine  ar- 
rangements were  the  signal  for  the  execution  of  Lilly's  plans, 
and  they  afforded  an  insurance  from  the  danger  of  immediate 
pursuit — the  only  security  she  needed. 

Lebanon  is  a  border  town,  and  the  boundary  line  of  New- 
York  once  passed,  and  Massachusetts  entered,  Lilly  was  as- 
sured of  the  protecting  hospitalities  of  the  people  of  her  own 
color  ;  and  it  had  even  been  hinted  to  her,  that  in  case  her  re- 
treat was  discovered,  the  white  inhabitants  would  be  very  back- 
ward to  enforce  her  master's  rights. 

Thus  encouraged,  Lilly  availed  herself  of  the  propitious 
moment  of  Caroline's  departure,  subtracted  the  purse  from 
the  dressing-case,  and  not  wishing  to  encumber  herself  with 
any  superfluity,  she  left  the  dressing-case,  and  in  her  haste  left 
it  open,  and  made  good  her  retreat. 

What  particular  grounds  there  might  have  been  in  this 
instance  for  the  intimations  given  to  Lilly,  we  cannot  say  ;  but 
it  must  be  confessed,  that  our  northern  people  are  quite  care- 
less of  the  duty  of  protecting  slave  property,  and  that  they 
manifest  a  provoking  indifference  to  the  rights  and  losses  of 
slave-holders.  Indeed,  so  notorious  is  their  fault  in  this  par- 
ticular, that  their  southern  brethren  seldom  run  the  risk  of  an 
irrecoverable  loss  by  exposing  their  servants  to  the  danger  of 
an  atmosphere  infected  with  freedom  ;  and  those  among  them 
who  possess  the  greatest  abundance  of  these  riches,  which  em- 
phatically take  to  themselves  wings  and  fly  away,  prudently 
make  their  northern  tours  attended  by  white  servants. 

The  sisters  found  their  way  through  the  dimly-lighted  pas- 
sages to  their  father's  apartment.  Westall  met  them  at  the 
door ;  he  perceived,  at  a  single  glance,  that  all  was  right  be- 
tween them. 


REDWOOD.  443 

"  Thank  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  you  are  both  here  ;  your  father 
has  just  pronounced  your  names." 

"  Is  he  conscious  ?"  whispered  Ellen. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  but  he  seems  quite  calm  and  refreshed." 

Caroline  and  Ellen  approached  the  bed  together.  Mr. 
Redwood  looked  at  them  with  an  expression  of  surprise  and 
inquiry,  and  a  slight  convulsion  agitated  his  face.  They  both 
bent  over  him  and  kissed  him.  He  joined  their  hands,  clasped 
them  in  his,  and  raised  his  eyes — peace,  gratitude,  and  devo- 
tion spoke  in  them.  He  said  nothing  ;  he  seemed  to  fear  the 
effort  to  speak.  After  a  few  moments  he  relinquished  the 
hands  of  his  children  and  closed  his  eyes.  Tears  stole  through 
his  eyelids,  and  a  sweet  serenity  overspread  his  countenance. 

"  This  is  heaven's  own  peace,"  whispered  Westall ;  "  the 
world  cannot  give  it — the  world  cannot  take  it  away." 


444  REDWOOD. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

And  as  the  morning  steals  upon  the  night, 
Melting  the  darkness,  so  his  rising  senses 
Begin  to  chase  the  ignorant  fumes  that  mantle 

His  clearer  reason. 

TEMPEST. 

Heaven  hath  a  hand  in  these  events. 

KINS  JOHN. 

THE  night  and  its  afflictions,  which  we  have  just  faithfully  re- 
corded, passed  away,  and  joy  came  with  the  morning.  Mr. 
Redwood's  condition  was  already  much  amended.  He  experi- 
enced, to  its  full  extent,  the  restorative  power  of  happiness. 
His  disease  had  been  more  moral  than  physical,  and  it  yielded 
to  moral  influences. 

Without  superstition  one  might  have  believed  that  Elleu 
possessed  a  '  healing  gift,'  so  beneficent  was  the  effect  of  her 
vigilant  care.  She  was  constantly  at  her  father's  bedside, 
ministering  to  his  mind  and  body,  and  performing  all  those 
tender  and  soothing  offices  which  the  sick  so  often  feel  to  be 
more  efficacious  than  the  most  skilfully  compounded  drugs. 

She  never  left  her  father's  room  but  for  the  purpose  of 
renovating  her  strength  and  spirits  by  a  few  turns  on  the  piazza 
with  Westall.  If  her  lover  ever  thought  that  her  filial  duty 
abstracted  her  too  much  from  the  reciprocation  of  their  mutual 


REDWOOD.  445 

feelings,  (a  natural  jealousy,  for  a  man  is  never  satisfied  with- 
out expressing  what  a  woman  is  content  with  feeling.)  he  was 
quite  consoled  when,  during  these  brief  interviews,  he  listened 
to  the  detail  of  her  feelings  in  relation  to  himself — of  her 
hopes  and  misgivings  ;  in  short,  to  that  whole  history  of  the 
heart  which  is  such  delightful  music  to  the  lover's  ear — and 
such  very  dull  music  to  every  other. 

Ellen  communicated  to  Mrs.  Westall  and  Miss  Campbell 
the  discovery  of  her  parentage.  Both,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  received  the  intelligence  with  inexpressible  delight : 
all  human  happiness  must  be  qualified,  and  that  of  the  two 
ladies  was  considerably  abated  by  Ellen's  injunction  to  tem- 
porary secrecy,  and  by  her  passing  without  the  slightest  notice 
over  the  particulars  that  led  to  the  discovery.  After  Ellen 
had  concluded  her  communication,  and  had  received  the  em- 
braces and  congratulations  of  her  friends,  Grace  Campbell's 
smiles  triumphed  over  the  tears  with  which  they  had  been  con- 
flicting, and  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Westall  and  said,  "  Well,  my 
dear  madam,  I  suppose  you  and  I  must  put  down  all  of  mother 
Eve  within  us,  for  no  evil  spirit  will  enter  this  paradise  that 
Ellen  has  conjured  about  her,  to  devise  ways  and  means  to 
relieve  our  curiosity." 

"  And  my  dear  friends,"  said  Ellen,  "  1  am  sure  you  will 
be  content  to  endure  that  curiosity  which  could  only  be  re- 
lieved by  an  evil  spirit." 

-  Oh,  I  don't  know — at  any  rate,  I  had  rather  not  be 
tempted,"  replied  Miss  Campbell.  "  But,  my  dear  Ellen, 
as  we  are  not  permitted  to  see  the  ring  or  lamp — the 
magic  means,  whatever  they  may  be,  by  which  you  have 
attained  the  happy  finale  of  your  fairy  tale — do  gratify  me  in 
one  particular — suffer  me  to  produce  a  grand  sensation 
once  in  my  life — allow  me  to  proclaim  you  Ellen  Red- 


446  REDWOOD. 

wood  before  the  world  and  in  the  presence  of  your  disdainful 
sister?" 

"  I  cannot." 

"  And  why  not  ?" 

"  Because  my  sister  is  no  longer  disdainful,  but  kind  and 
affectionate ;  and  besides,  my  dear  Grace,  you  know  that  I 
have  a  rustic  aversion  to  notoriety ;  and  more  than  all  that, 
our  arrangements  are  already  made.  Should  my  father  con- 
tinue to  convalesce  as  rapidly  as  he  has  done  for  the  last  four- 
and-twenty  hours,  he  will  be  able  to  leave  here  on  Thursday 
next,  one  week  from  this  day — the  day  appointed  for  the 
departure  of  your  party.  Caroline  and  Fitzgerald  are  to  be 
married,  quite  privately,  in  my  father's  room,  on  Wednesday 
morning,  and  are  to  proceed  immediately  to  Canada ;  and  I 
am  to  resign  the  place  your  aunt  kindly  offered  me  in  her 
carriage,  and,  with  your  leave,  Mrs.  Westall,  am  to  occupy 
that  which  Caroline  vacates  in  our  father's." 

"  A  most  delightful  arrangement,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  "WestalL 

"  A  delightful  arrangement  to  you,  ladies,  doubtless,"  said 
Miss  Campbell ;  "  but  I  confess  I  do  not  feel  particularly 
flattered  that  Ellen  should  sever  herself  from  our  party  with 
so  much  nonchalance,  and  form  her  exquisite  plans  without 
the  slightest  reference  to  us." 

"  You  have  not  heard  all  our  plans,  my  dear  Grace,"  re- 
plied Ellen,  with  slight  embarrassment ;  "  we  have  been  com- 
pelled by  the  necessity  of  the  case  to  form  them  hastily  :  my 
father  has  expressed  a  wish  that  Caroline  and  I  should  be 
married  at  the  same  time  ;  to  this  I  could  not  consent  ;  my 
duty  to  Mrs.  Harrison — my  affection  for  her.  forbids  it.  My 
father  is  willing  to  make  an  effort  to  go  to  Lansdown.  that  he 
may  see  my  beloved  friend,  and  express  his  gratitude  for  her 
maternal  kindness  to  his  child." 


REDWOOD.  447 

Ellen  hesitated,  and  Miss  Campbell  said.  "  This  is  all  very 
pretty  and  very  proper,  but  still  there  is  no  consolation  for 
my  self-love." 

"  You  have  not  heard  Ellen  out,  Miss  Campbell,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Westall ;  ';  the  most  agreeable  part  of  all  these 
arrangements  is  yet  to  come  ;  a  part  which,  in  right  of  Charles 
"WestalPs  mother,  I  have  already  been  consulted  on.  My  dear 
Ellen,  I  will  take  pity  on  your  girlish  reluctance  to  come  to 
the  point,  and  just  tell  Miss  Campbell,  in  direct  terms,  thai 
your  wedding  is  to  be  celebrated  at  Lausdown,  on  the  first 
day  of  September." 

"  Since  Mrs.  Westall  has  helped  me  on  so  far,  my  dear 
Grace,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  will  come  to  that  point  to  which  all  this 
preamble  has  tended,  and  in  as  direct  terms  as  Mrs.  Westall's, 
beg  the  favor  of  you  to  persuade  your  aunt  to  accommodate 
her  progress  to  our  snail's  pace,  in  order  that  I  may  have  you 
for  my  bride's-maid." 

"  Thank  you,  thank,  you  Ellen.  Now  I  can  perceive  that 
your  arrangements  are  all  delightful.  Persuade  my  aunt ! — 
bless  her,  I  can  persuade  her  to  any  thing ;  and  if  I  could  not 
I  would  poison  the  horses — bribe  the  coachman  to  turn  the 
carriage  off  some  of  your  northern  precipices — any  thing  for 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  married  to  Charles  Westall."  After 
an  instant's  pause  Miss  Campbell  added,  "  in  romance  all  the 
business  of  life  ends  with  a  wedding,  but  in  real  life  that 
seems  to  be  the  starting  point.  Now,  as  I  am  a  little  worldly 
in  my  views,  I  should  like  to  know.  Ellen,  whether  you  and 
Westall  are  going  to  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  Harrison 
mansion,  and  live  upon  love  and  verses,  as  Miss  Debby  would 
say?" 

Ellen  assured  Miss  Campbell  that  she  had  no  such  roman- 
tic views,  that  on  the  contrary  all  due  respect  had  been  paid 


448  REDWOOD. 

to  their  temporal  affairs.  She  informed  her  that  on  account 
of  Mr.  Kedwood's  health,  they  were  to  pass  the  winter  in  Vir- 
ginia— that  in  the  spring  they  were  to  return  to  New-England 
— that  Mr.  "Westall  was  then  to  form  a  partnership  which  had 
long  been  projected  with  an  eminent  lawyer,  and  enter  upon 
the  business  of  his  profession. 

'  My  prudence  is  quite  satisfied,"  said  Miss  Campbell, 
when  Ellen  had  concluded  ;  "  and  now,  my  dear  friend,  tell  me. 
are  you  never  to  appear  as  Ellen  Redwood  ?" 

"  My  father  insists  on  my  bearing  that  name  from  the 
moment  we  leave  Lebanon." 

"  That  is  as  it  should  be,"  said  Miss  Campbell — and  the 
ladies  separated. 

Fitzgerald,  who  had  felt  himself  at  the  mercy  of  events 
which  he  could  not  control,  passed  a  week  of  impatience  and 
anxiety :  but  a  week  '  though  it  may  be  tedious,  cannot  b& 
long,'  and  the  day  arrived  that  was  to  assure  his  right  to 
Caroline  Redwood.  There  were  some  indications  that  it 
might  not  have  been  impossible  to  persuade  the  young  lady  to 
retract  her  engagement,  but  it  seems  that  her  friends  did  not 
deem  it  expedient  to  interfere,  for  they  never  spoke  to  her 
upon  the  subject. 

Ten  o'clock  was  the  time  appointed  for  the  marriage  cere- 
mony, and  at  that  hour  Fitzgerald  led  Caroline  into  her 
father's  apartment. 

Ellen,  "Westall,  and  his  mother  were  there,  awaiting  them. 
Mr.  Redwood  was  sitting  on  his  easy-chair,  his  health  and 
spirits  obviously  and  surprisingly  renovated.  He  had  sum- 
moned all  his  fortitude  for  the  occasion  ;  but  he  shuddered 
when  he  saw  his  daughter  come  into  his  presence  for  the  last 
time,  and  thought  of  the  probable  destiny  to  which  he  was 
about  to  resign  her.  She  had  never  looked  so  lovely  as  at  this 


REDWOOD.  449 

moment — the  events  of  the  preceding  week  had  softened  her 
heart,  and  touched  her  beautiful  face  with  a  moral  expression. 

Mr.  Kedwood  received  Fitzgerald  with  politeness,  rather 
chilled  by  reserve.  He  drew  Caroline  to  him,  and  put  his  arm 
around  her — "  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  before  the  clergyman 
is  admitted,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  to  you.  We  have  already 
exchanged  forgiveness — mutual  it  should  not  have  been,  but 
that  you  made  it  so,  for  my  parental  faults  met  with  their  just 
retribution  in  your  breach  of  filial  duty — that  is  all  past,  and 
we  will  forget  it  if  we  can. 

"  Caroline,  I  have  made  Ellen  acquainted  with  your  gener- 
ous wish  that  a  large  portion  of  your  fortune  should  be  con- 
veyed to  her ;  but  Ellen  is  a  nice  casuist,  and  she  has  con- 
vinced me  that  I  have  no  right  to  make  any  disposition  of  a 
property  which  descends  to  you  from  your  mother." 

"  Oh  Ellen  !"  whispered  Caroline  to  her  sister,  "  will  you 
not  allow  me  to  make  some  atonement  to  you?" 

"  My  dear  Caroline,"  replied  Ellen,  "  if  I  needed  an  atone- 
ment, your  kindness  and  confidence  are  an  ample  one — that  I 
have  accepted — I  can  accept  no  other." 

"  My  small  patrimonial  inheritance,"  resumed  Mr.  Red- 
wood, "  has  been  increased  by  the  legacy  of  an  uncle,  and 
though  my  fortune  is  still  moderate,  it  is  quite  adequate  to  my 
own  wants,  and  to  Ellen's  -very  moderate  desires.  Captain 
Fitzgerald,  my  dear  Caroline,  must  pardon  me,  if  I  avail  my- 
self of  my  right  to  remain  your  steward  during  my  life.  The 
income  of  your  fortune  shall  be  regularly  transmitted  to  you, 
wherever  your  husband's  destiny  may  take  you.  God  grant 
that  the  restoration  of  peace  to  his  country  may  enable  him  to 
perform  his  promise  to  resign  his  commission,  and  come  and 
reside  among  us." 

After  a  brief  pause,  Mr.  Redwood  continued,  "  I  am  now 


450  REDWOOD. 

going,  my  dear  child,  to  bestow  on  you  an  inestimable  trea- 
sure ;"  he  put  into  her  hands  the  Bible  he  had  received  from 
Ellen  ;  '•  this  your  sister  gave  to  me  with  prophetic  benevolence 
— she  knows  that-  her  purpose  has  been  accomplished — the 
dark  shadows  of  unbelief  have  passed  from  my  mind  for  ever — 
the  terrors  that  threatened  to  annihilate  my  reason  are  van- 
quished— the  life-giving  truths,  and  immortal  hopes  of  that 
book  have  translated  me  from  darkness  to  light.  My  friends/' 
he  added  with  increased  energy,  "  you  know  not  what  it  is  to 
endure  the  evils  of  life  with  the  horrible  belief  that  the  grave 
is  the  place  of  final  extinction — of  eternal  death  :  neither  can 
you  know,"  and  a  divine  joy  seemed  to  illuminate  his  counte- 
nance, "  neither  can  you  know  the  rest  of  my  wearied  spirit — 
the  gratitude  I  feel  to  the  blessed  Redeemer — the  resurrection 
and  the  life." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  said,  "  Receive  my 
blessing,  my  child,  and  remember  that  it  is  my  last  injunction 
that  you  make  this  book  your  guide." 

Caroline,  deeply  affected,  knelt  before  her  father — Ellen 
sunk  on  her  knees  beside  her,  and  clasping  her  arm  around 
her  sister,  she  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  Mr.  Redwood, 
"  Severed — strangers,"  she  said,  "  as  we  have  been  on  earth, 
we  may  yet  be  a  family  in  heaven." 

"  God  grant  it,  my  children !"  responded  her  father  fer- 
vently, and  for  a  few  moments  he  bent  his  head  in  silence 
over  his  daughters  ;  he  then  raised  them,  gave  Caroline's  hand 
to  Fitzgerald,  and  Ellen's  to  Westall. 

The  clergyman  was  summoned — the  nuptial  ceremony  per- 
formed— Caroline  received  the  farewell  embraces  of  her  friends, 
and  left  them  for  ever. 


REDWOOD.  45 1 

We  fancied  we  had  finished  our  humble  labors,  when  by  a 
lucky  chance  a  letter,  written  by  Deborah  Lenox,  and  ad- 
dressed to  Mrs.  Charles  Westall, ,  Massachusetts,  fell 

into  our  hands.  As  it  was  written  nearly  two  years  subse- 
quent to  the  date  of  these  memoirs,  and  contained  some 
interesting  notices  of  the  personages  that  figure  in  them,  we 
immediately  transmitted  it  to  our  printer.  It  was  sent  back 
with  a  respectful  request  from  the  compositors  of  the  press 
(those  accomplished  orthographers)  that  the  spelling  might  be 
rectified.  In  reward  of  their  patient  toil  in  our  behalf,  it  has 
been  deemed  a  duty  to  gratify  their  fastidiousness,  and  Debo- 
rah's epistle  has  been  reluctantly  re-written — letters  have 
been  transposed,  subtracted,  and  added,  and  we  believe  its 
orthography  is  now  quite  perfect.  In  no  other  way  would  we 
consent  to  alter  it,  for  we  respect  the  peculiarities  of  our 
honest  friend,  and  are  willing  to  have  the  sibyl  with  her  con- 
tortions. 

"  Eton,  Vermont  State,  20th  July,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  18 — 

"  MY  DEAR  ELLEN, 

"  I  guess  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  my  pot-hooks  and 
trammels,  and  puzzled  enough  you  will  be  to  read  them  ;  but 
I  could  not  let  so  good  an  opportunity  pass  without  letting 
you  know  that  the  Lord  has  spared  our  lives  to  this  date,  and 
that  all  your  friends  at  Eton  are  well,  except  the  minister, 
who  enjoys  a  poor  state  of  health. 

"  The  reason  you  do  not  receive  a  letter  from  sister  Lenox 
by  this  opportunity,  is,  that  she  does  not  know  of  it,  on 
account  of  her  having  journeyed  to  New-York  to  meet  George 
and  his  bride,  who  we  hear,  though  she  has  the  disadvantage 
of  being  born  and  bred  at  the  south,  is  as  likely  and  prudent. 


452  REDWOOD 

and  notable  a  woman  as  if  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
Vonght  up  in  New-England,  which  leads  a  reflecting  person 
to  consider  that  it  is  best  to  lay  aside  their  prejudices,  and  to 
believe  that  there  are  good  people  every  where.  I  did  not 
expect  George  would  have  got  over  his  disappointment  so 
soon ;  but  he  has  acted  a  rational  part,  for  it  stands  to  reason 
that  a  man  can  find  more  than  one  woman  in  the  world  to 
make  him  happy :  that  is  to  say,  if  he  can't  get  cake^  he  had 
better  take  up  with  gingerbread. 

"  But  before  I  go  any  further,  I  ought  to  finish  giving  you 
the  reasons  why  you  must  put  up  with  a  letter  from  such  a 
poor  scribe  as  I  am,  instead  of  receiving  one  from  any  of  the 
rest  of  the  family,  who  all  write,  Lucy  and  all.  coarse  hand 
and  fine,  very  nicely.  The  girls  are  busy,  excepting  Lucy, 
preparing  tea  for  our  grand  visitors.  James's  wife,  kind- 
hearted  little  soul  that  she  is,  has  gone  to  fix  off  Peggy ;  and 
Lucy  is  at  the  sewing  society,  which  has  lately  been  estab- 
lished in  aid  of  the  pious  youth  at  the  Cornwall  school,  and 
foreign  and  domestic  missions.  So  you  see,  my  dear  Ellen,  I 
e'en  have  to  put  my  hand  to  the  plough. 

"  You  and  I  never  did  a  better  chore  than  getting  Emily 
back  among  us :  it  would  gladden  your  heart  to  see  her  old 
grandmother,  who  is  truly  a  new  creature,  and  owns,  like  Job, 
that  she  is  more  blessed  at  the  end  than  at  the  beginning. 
Emily  makes  a  first-rate  wife,  which  I  take  to  be  partly  owing 
to  her  having  learnt  many  prudent  and  prospering  ways 
among  them  Shakers ;  and  I  do  think  if  they  could  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  turn  their  settlement  into  a  school  to  bring  up 
young  folks  for  the  married  state,  they  would  be  a  blessing  to 
the  world,  instead  of  a  spectacle  to  show  how  much  wisdom 
and  how  much  folly  may  be  mixed  up  together. 

"  Little  Peggy  came  here  this  morning,  with  a  basket  of 


REDWOOD.  453 

new-fashioned  early  beans,  a  present  from  Deacon  Martin  to 
me :  the  deacon  and  I  have  had  a  strife  which  should  have  the 
first  beans,  and  he  has  won  the  race ;  and  by  the  way.  I  do  not 
believe  you  have  heard  about  the  deacon's  marriage,  which  has 
made  quite  a  stirring  time  here  at  Eton.  You  must  know  that 
a  few  weeks  after  the  deacon  lost  his  wife,  he  felt  so  lonesome 
without  a  companion  that  he  came  to  sister  Lenox  to  recom- 
mend a  suitable  one,  and  she  directly  spoke  a  good  word  for 
Peggy's  aunt  Betty,  who  is,  as  it  were,  alone  in  the  world  and 
though  a  poor  body,  she  comes  of  a  creditable  stock  in  the  old 
countries ;  and  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  her  walk  and 
conversation  among  us  has  been  as  good  as  a  preached  sermon 
— that  is  to  say,  a  moral  discourse.  Well,  the  deacon  was 
quite  taken  with  the  notion,  for  Betty  is  a  comely  woman  to 
look  to  yet,  though  well  nigh  on  to  fifty,  and  he  went  directly 
to  lay  the  matter  before  some  of  the  church-members,  and 
they  made  strong  objections  to  the  match,  on  account  of 
Betty's  so  often  breaking  the  third  commandment,  which 
comes,  I  suppose,  of  her  being  brought  up  in  Old  England, 
where  they  are  by  no  means  so  particular  about  teaching  the 
youth  their  catechise  as  with  us.  The  deacon,  however,  had 
set  his  face  as  a  flint,  and  there  were  consultations  about  it,  till 
at  last  two  of  the  brethren  agreed  to  go  and  talk  to  Betty  on 
the  subject,  and  make  her  promise  that  she  would  put  a  tight 
rein  on  her  tongue. 

"  Betty  promised  every  thing  they  asked ;  but  you  know 
when  a  body  always  goes  in  the  same  track  it  makes  a  deep  rut, 
and  it  is  next  to  an  impossibility  to  turn  out  of  it ;  and  so.  while 
Betty  was  talking  with  them,  every  other  sentence  was,  '  God 
help  us,  gentlemen,'  and  '  God  bless  your  souls,  I'll  do  my 
best.'  and  so  on ;  and  they  came  away  more  dead  set  against 
the  match  than  ever.  But  Martin  went  on  in  spite  of  them, 


454  REDWOOD. 

and  married  her  ;  and  except  in  the  matter  of  the  third  com- 
mandment, there  is  not  a  more  exemplary  deacon's  wife  in  the 
State  than  Betty  makes. 

"  But  I  shall  never  come  to  the  end  of  my  letter,  if  I  go  on 
at  this  rate.  I  find  that  the  older  I  grow,  the  more  I  love  to 
talk;  and  some  how  or  other  I  always  did  love,  above  all 
things,  to  hold  discourse  with  you,  Ellen.  To  go  back  then  to 
my  last  starting  point.  I  emptied  out  Peggy's  basket,  and 
went  to  open  the  door  for  her,  and  what  should  I  see  but  a  fine 
coach  with  a  noble  span  of  horses  turning  up  to  our  gate,  and 
who  of  all  the  people  in  the  world  should  be  in  it  but  Mr.  Fen- 
ton  Campbell  and  his  wife,  Grace  Campbell  that  was  ? 

"  I  did  not  know  her  at  first  glance,  for  she  is  dressed  in 
deep  mourning  for  her  uncle  Richard  Campbell,  who  has  died 
lately ;  sorry  enough,  I  dare  say,  to  leave  all  his  other  ac- 
counts to  go  to  his  last  one.  However,  the  moment  she 
smiled  one  of  her  own  beautiful  smiles,  as  bright  as  the  sun  at 
mid-day,  I  knew  her,  and  she  sprung  out  of  the  carriage  and 
was  on  the  door-step  at  a  bound,  and  shaking  both  my  hands, 
just  with  that  warm-hearted  way  of  hers,  she  came  in  and  sat 
down,  and  directly  we  fell  to  talking  of  you.  and  our  tongues 
went  as  spry  as  that  old  woman's,  who,  as  a  humorsome  gen- 
tleman said,  had  hers  fastened  in  the  middle  that  it  might  run 
at  both  ends  ! 

"  Peggy's  ear  is  always  nailed  the  minute  she  hears  your 
name,  and  she  kept  drawing  closer  and  closer  to  us,  and  at 
last  the  poor  thing  began  to  cry;  and  then  Mrs.  Campbell 
made  some  inquiries  about  her.  and  when  she  heard  her  story, 
and  learned  that  you  wished  Peggy  to  go  and  live  with  you  as 
soon  as  her  aunt  could  spare  her,  and  that  her  aunt  had  given 
her  consent,  and  that  Peggy  was  only  waiting  for  an  oppor- 
tunity, and  was  all  on  tiptoe  for  it,  she  just  spoke  a  word  to 


r 

REDWOOD.  455 

her  husband,  and  then  told  Peggy  that  if  she  would  be  ready 
in  the  morning,  she  would  take  her  to  you.  I  thought  the 
child  would  have  gone  clean  out  of  her  wits  with  joy :  her 
eyes,  the  blind  one  as  well  as  the  other,  looked  as  if  they 
would  have  danced  out  of  her  head ;  she  clapped  her  hands, 
and  whirled  around,  and  fell  on  her  knees,  and  kissed  Mrs. 
Campbell's  gown — poor  thing  !  she  is  too  feeling  a  creature  for 
this  world ;  and  I  am  thankful  she  is  going  to  you,  Ellen,  who 
know  all  about  feelings,  and.  can  temper  hers. 

"  I  don't  well  see  where  Mrs.  Campbell  will  stow  the  child 
away,  for  her  carriage  is  filled  with  all  sorts  of  notions,  and  a 
large  kind  of  pocket-books  which  they  call  portfolios,  and 
which  Mrs.  Campbell  says  are  filled  with  her  husband's  draw- 
ings, for  they  have  been  to  the  Falls,  and  to  Quebec,  and  so 
on,  and  you  know  painting  is  his  fancy  ;  and  I  judge  it  takes 
a  great  deal  of  room  to  draw  such  large  lakes  and  rivers  on. 
However,  she  has  determined  of  her  own  accord  to  take 
Peggy,  and  I  always  find  your  real  noble-minded  people  can 
contrive  a  way  to  do  every  kind  action  that  turns  up  in  their 
path. 

"  Mrs.  Campbell  had  not  heard  a  word  of  the  death  of 
Captain  Fitzgerald  and  his  wife,  till  I  told  her  about  it :  and 
I  declare,  Ellen,  it  was  a  teaching  providence  to  me  when  I 
heard  it ;  and  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  time  when  I  saw 
them  at  Lebanon,  so  young,  so  blooming,  and  so  handsome,  step- 
ping over  the  earth  with  a  step  so  light  and  so  lofty,  that  it 
seemed  not  to  be  in  all  their  thoughts  that  they  must  ever  lie 
down  under  the  cold  clods. 

Poor  young  creature  •!  I  am  sure,  when  she  was  flaunting 
away  here  at  Eton,  I  never  thought  I  should  have  wet  my  old 
eyes  for  her ;  "but  for  all,  I  did  cry  like  a  child  when  sister 
Lenox  received  your  father's  letter,  telling  all  about  her  death, 


456  REDWOOD. 

and  that  her  last  words  were  to  beg  them  to  send  her  little 
girl  to  you,  and  ask  you  to  make  her  like  yourself. 

"  The  dealings  of  Providence  are  sometimes  mysterious ; 
but  he  that  runs  may  read  this  dispensation.  However.  Ellen, 
as  it  would  not  be  pleasing  to  you  to  have  any  thing  cast  up 
against  your  sister,  especially  since  she  is  dead  and  gone.  I 
will  say  no  more  upon  this  head  ;  only  to  observe,  that  if  this 
child  lives  to  grow  up  under  your  training,  the  world  will  see 
that  a  woman's  being  beautiful  and  rich  need  not  hinder  her 
from  being  wise  and  good  too :  and  it  seemeth  to  me,  that 
though  God  respecteth  not  the  outward  show,  the  more  beau- 
tiful the  temple  is  the  more  fitting  is  it  for  a  dwelling-place  for 
his  Spirit ;  and  I  think  it  would  be  a  pleasing  and  an  edifying 
sight  to  see  the  perfection  of  earth  and  the  beauty  of  heaven 
built  up  and  fitly  framed  together. 

"  Often,  when  I  am  alone,  and  considering,  my  thoughts 
turn  upon  you,  Ellen,  and  upon  all  that  happened  before  your 
sister  went  off  to  them  West  Indies,  which  have  proved  l.er 
death  ;  and  thinking  upon  you  brings,  to  mind  some  passages 
of  Scripture,  which  have  been  remarkably  acted  upon  in  your 
life  ;  and  first,  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Proverbs  and  the 
seventh  verse,  Solomon  says,  '  when  a  man's  ways  please  the 
Lord,  he  maketh  even  his  enemies  to  be  at  peace  with  him' — 
and  in  the  New  Testament  Scriptures  it  is  written.  '  be  not 
wearied  with  well  doing' — '  overcome  evil  with  good,'  and  so 
on.  Now,  in  my  view,  these  texts  appear  as  a  kind  of  history 
of  what  passed  between  you  and  Caroline  ;  and  it  is  a  com- 
forting thing  to  see  such  a  plain  agreement  between  the  book 
of  experience  and  the  book  of  God's  word — that  is  to  say,  to 
see  a  Christian's  life  a  Scripture  proof. 

"  Caroline's  behavior,  at  the  upshot,  was  a  satisfaction  to 
me  in  many  ways,  and  especially  as  it  helped  to  build  me  up 


REDWOOD.  457 

in  the  doctrine  I  have  always  maintained,  namely,  that  there 
is  no  soil  so  hard  bound  and  so  barren  but  what,  if  you  work 
upon  it  long  enough,  you  may  make  it  bring  forth  some  good 
thing  at  last ;  not  that  it  will  equal  that  soil  which  is  warm 
and  rich  at  the  start,  and  is  from  the  beginning  diligently 
opened  for  the  sun  of  God's  grace  to  shine  in  upon  it,  and  the 
dews  of  heaven  to  nourish  it — a  soil  like — I  must  write  it  out 
— like  your  heart,  Ellen. 

"  You  nesd  not  to  have  said  so  much  in  your  letter  about 
your  gratitude  for  my  offer  of  the  hundred  pounds,  feather 
beds,  and  so  forth,  for  I  knew  you  did  not  despise  it,  and 
that  it  was  true,  as  you  say,  that  you  only  refused  it  on  ac- 
count of  your  house  being  entirely  filled  with  Mrs.  Harrison's 
furniture,  and  your  sister's  handsome  presents. 

"  Your  worldly  condition,  Ellen,  seems  to  me  to  be  con- 
formable to  Agur's  prayer — '  Grive  me  neither  poverty  nor 
riches' — a  prayer  that  every  one  professes  to  approve,  but,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  I  have  observed  but  few  whose  conduct  bears 
out  the  profession. 

"  Before  I  finish  my  long  preachment,  I  wish  to  send  my 
compliments  to  Mrs.  Harrison,  who  I  hear  looks  ten  years 
younger  since  she  went  to  live  with  you  ;  and  my  duty  to  Mr. 
Redwood,  who  I  hope,  now  he  is  so  happy,  won't  take  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald's  death  very  deeply  to  heart,  since  we  must  all  have 
criss-cross  lines  in  this  life. 

"  In  conclusion,  my  dear  Ellen,  I  have  only  to  say,  that  as 
your  light  has  shone  brightly  in  adversity,  I  pray  it  may  shine 
on  in  prosperity,  making  glad  many  hearts  long  and  long  after 
death  has  closed  the  eyes  of 

"  Your  old  friend, 

"DEBORAH  LENOX." 


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